


Love Makes Me

by deadgranger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Back to Hogwarts, Community: HPFT, F/M, HP: EWE, Mystery, Post-War, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 04:05:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 62,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadgranger/pseuds/deadgranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over and the Dark Lord has been defeated, but as the Golden Trio return to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year, the scars of the war remain. Hermione has been appointed Head Girl alongside Draco Malfoy as Head Boy. With an unknown threat lurking in the dark, is it possible they can build a new path that leads them all to something brighter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Hermione sat outside Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream parlor, basking in the warm afternoon sunshine with a book in her right hand and an extremely tall mint chocolate chip ice cream cone in the other. A bag stretched to its limits was perched on the chair to her right, holding all twenty of the books she had just purchased from Flourish and Blotts. 

Being the voracious reader she was, Hermione had already cracked open a second edition of William Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_ and was currently devouring the madness that was Act III. Just as she was approaching a rather heated moment in Scene II, she happened to glance up and see an aggravatingly familiar face nearly hidden in the shadows by Potage’s Cauldron Shop. She went back to the play but almost immediately looked up a second time to identify the person the face belonged to, but the face was gone.

A sinking feeling pooled in the pit of her belly but she ignored it for the time being, brushing it off as instincts from the war. Taking a rather aggressive bite of her cone, she returned to the tragedy that was _Hamlet.  
_

~*~*~*~Three months earlier~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

After Harry left Ron and me to search for Ravenclaw’s diadem, we went to the Chamber of Secrets and destroyed Hufflepuff’s cup. On our way up to the seventh floor, a collapsing staircase separated Ron and I. Rather than waste time, I crawled out of the alcove I had jumped into to avoid falling debris and cautiously made my way to the end of the corridor, sounds of battle getting louder with each step. 

I turned the corner sharply, wand gripped tightly in my hand. _Nothing._ I walked carefully, pointing my wand into each branching corridor and hidden alcove, expecting death at every turn. I glimpsed a flash of black at the end of the corridor I was standing in and instantly began sprinting in the opposite direction, taking as many turns and hidden passageways as possible to lose the possible threat. Hurrying now, I almost made it to a side staircase when jeering laughter floated from that direction. _Death Eaters._

“Come out and play, little mudblood!” a singsong voice rang out.

“We’ll go easy on you, we promise!” another one jested.

Their footsteps got louder as they approached the top of the stairs. I was frozen in place, partially hidden behind a tapestry. I clamped a hand over my mouth to quiet my breathing, but kept my wand pointed at the tapestry as I slid behind it into the narrow nook. 

Jeering laugher again, this time from multiple voices.

“Come on, you filthy little thing! Don’t you want to come and play?” the first male said.

“You can even pick which one of us you want to play with first!” the second man declared.

My heart was racing, nearly pounding out of my chest. I could barely hear their footsteps over the loudness of my own breathing. I held my breath as I strained my ears to listen, but no sound came from in front of the tapestry. Exhaling, I breathed a sigh of relief and dropped my position to rest against the wall, closing my eyes. It didn’t last long. Grubby, calloused hands ripped at my clothes, pulling me out from behind the tapestry into the corridor. One of the Death Eaters had my arms behind my back, my wand in his front pocket.

“Eh, well little Draco didn’t tell us she was a looker now, did ‘e?” MacNair’s eyes roved my body.

Using my restrainer as leverage, I kicked out for any body part my legs could reach. My foot connected with a shin, a knee, and a pelvis before I was thrown onto the ground, though now both my ankles and wrists were being held down.

“Now, now, little mudblood. We want you to play nice. ‘Cause if the mudblood doesn’t play nice—well, we’ll see just how muddy her blood really is,” Dolohov traced the tip of his wand across my jaw and down the curve my neck.

“You really are a pretty littl’ thing, aren’t ya? I betcha that Malfoy scum was tryin’ to keep her to himself! Ha!” the trio laughed at the absurdity. 

“But what shall we do with you, hmm?” his wand dug into the skin at my collarbone. “I remember you, from the Department of Mysteries, oh yes—you barely got away with your life! Say boys, what do ya say we make the little mudblood dance?” MacNair’s eyes lit up with insanity, the other two darkly chuckling in agreement. The pressure on my wrists and ankles vanished as the two men stood up.

The former-executioner-turned-Death Eater was suddenly standing, gesturing for me to do the same. Warily I followed orders, keeping my eye on the big blond whose pocket contained my wand. Dolohov cocked his head to the left, wand raised, gazing intently at my face. I boldly returned the stare, refusing to back down and make myself look weak.

Without breaking eye contact, he uttered, “Crucio.”

Immense pain wracked my body as I fell to the ground, fighting to keep a scream down.

“Crucio!” he spat. I couldn’t hold it in anymore—I let loose a sound so ungodly loud the three Death Eaters actually looked worried.

“Maybe we should Silencio her?” the blond one suggested. MacNair flicked his wand at me; I felt a weight slam into my throat, effectively keeping me silent.

“Now, where were we? Oh, that’s right, you were dancing for us!” Dolohov flicked his wand. “Crucio!” I writhed on the floor, screaming in utter silence until my throat felt raw.

The sound of furious footsteps broke Dolohov’s concentration and I looked up to see none other than a bloodied, robed Draco Malfoy advancing towards us, wand held offensively. “What the hell are you doing, Dolohov, MacNair? I told you the Dark Lord ordered _me_ to torture the mudblood for information, not _you_ ,” he said snidely, glancing my way in disgust. “Leave, you bloody idiots!”

MacNair and Dolohov sharply walked away, the blond following in their wake. “Not you, blondie. I believe you have something I require,” Malfoy held out his hand, expectant. Wordlessly, the blond stupidly handed over my wand to Malfoy and hurried to catch up with the other two Death Eaters.

Malfoy remained standing firmly until the sound of their footsteps’ echoes had ceased and he swiftly crouched and offered a hand to me. “Come on, Granger, get up! We have to go, _now_!”

Confused, I took it and stood up, wobbling slightly. I grasped his cold hand tighter until I regained a better sense of balance, not caring he was supposed to be the enemy. Right now, he was the best chance I had of making it back to Harry and Ron alive. “Why are you helping me?” I challenged, snagging my wand from his other hand. “What’s in it for you?"

He arranged his features into a mask, barren of any emotion, then stepped right in front of me, tilting his head down and looking me right in the eyes.

“Everything,” he breathed, so quiet I feared I might have imagined it.

Malfoy whirled and pulled me with him, running down corridor after corridor, moving us so fast I couldn’t figure out where we were. We kept running and running and running, slowing down when the sounds of magical battle reached my ears once again.

“Block this in your mind, Granger, block it with all of your hate for me. If you don’t, we’re both dead,” Malfoy instructed sinisterly in my ear. I nodded, already placing more shields around my previous ones, hiding the past hour deep inside my walls. Fluidly, he pulled the hood of the robe back over his head, sending his face into shadow, and ran off down a side corridor, returning to the darkness from which he came.

Counting to thirty before I reentered the fray, I filed this moment away to puzzle out later. For now, I had a battle to fight and Horcruxes to destroy.

~*~*~*~Present Day~*~*~*~

Hermione took her eyes away from _Hamlet_ yet again to see a very different face looking at her from across the alley. She couldn’t help it—her jaw dropped at the sight of a rather bony-looking Draco Malfoy in disheveled, normal clothing, his hair messy and flecked with dirt and grime. Their eyes locked for a tension-filled minute before he turned and melted into the darkness of the alleyway.

Something about him stirred a memory deep inside of her, but she pushed it down, deciding she would puzzle it out later. Presently, she was going to figure out just how Hamlet was going to pull off this ridiculous play of his to frame the king for murder.


	2. Chapter One

~*~*~*~August 31st, 1998~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

The night before term was due to start, I was relaxing with a cup of tea when I remembered the glimpse of Draco Malfoy I’d seen in the alley outside Fortescue’s, and how he’d also popped up while I was thinking about my parents’ memories. Feeling rather unsettled, I looked through my own memories to see if I could work out why there was such a weird feeling about that day and that man in general, but came up with nothing other than schoolboy taunts and hatred. Feeling a headache coming on, I let my mind wander, sipping my tea occasionally. Crookshanks leaped up onto the sofa and curled up on my lap, meowing softly. 

“I know, Crooks, it’s bothering me too,” I said, petting him slowly. I glanced at the clock on the wall to find it was already past midnight. Suddenly, a loud yawn burst from my mouth, and I picked Crookshanks up, carrying him with me to my bedroom. “Come on, Crooks. Let’s get some sleep—we’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

I shut the door and set Crookshanks down on the edge of my bed while I pulled back the covers and crawled in under them. He came up and laid against my chest, his face curled into my neck. With his comforting warmth beside me, I slept peacefully for the rest of the night—happy to be returning to the place I’d come to call my second home tomorrow.

~*~*~*~

My alarm went off at exactly seven thirty-three a.m. the next morning, and I almost threw my pillow at it before I remembered what day it was. Immediately, my fatigue wore off and I nearly jumped out of bed at the prospect of returning to Hogwarts.

I hopped in the shower and let the warm water wash all of my qualms about going back to the site of so much death and destruction from four months prior; I let the painful memories slide to the back of my mind and focused on actually being able to finish my magical education.

Mum and Dad prepared a wonderful breakfast of waffles, eggs, and bacon, and I ate heartily, still relishing in the fact I got three full meals a day again, not just some scraps or iffy plants and my feeble attempts at cooking them every once in a while.

I relished even more that my parents’ full memories had been recovered—Kingsley did the spell himself—once I told them what happened. Then, the fact that they accepted what I had done as the safest thing I could’ve thought of and that they would’ve done the exact same thing if they were in my shoes lifted a weight off my chest I hadn’t known was there until that moment. Just being able to see and touch my parents again, knowing they were unharmed, and maybe just slightly browner, made it all worth it.

Finally, with my school trunk and Crookshanks in his traveling case in tow, we drove to King’s Cross Station at ten a.m. We arrived on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at ten-thirty; only a few other families were there already, we all but ignored them.

After I put all of my belongs in the Heads’ compartment, I stepped back down onto the platform and my parents enveloped me in a hug. “We’re so proud of you, darling,” mum said.

“What you did for us, for everyone, shows just how strong you are, how much you really care about doing the right thing. I’d like to think you got that from me, but we both know that’s from your mother,” my dad said as he chuckled.

“Thank you both for understanding why I did what I did and for taking me back so quickly. I was so scared I wasn’t going to get you back at all but this is so much more than I ever hoped. I love you, mum. I love you, dad,” I choked out, tears beginning to spill down my face. They just hugged me tighter, giving me one last squeeze before they released me.

“Go get ‘em, love,” dad said. Mum nodded, tears flowing freely from her eyes as well. I watched the entrance to the platform, anxiously awaiting Harry and Ron’s arrival. I watched as they walked through the barrier together, holding hands. Smiling, I wiped my face and tried to make it look like I hadn’t just been crying over my parents taking me to the train for the last time.

Families began trickling in slowly, some students running off to say hello to friends, their parents combining into one large group to talk about ‘adult’ things. A few minutes later, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley all burst through the barrier, talking loudly. Broad grins spread across all of their faces as we met in the middle of the platform. Warm arms that belonged to Harry and Ron circled around me.

“Boys, I would like to breathe, please,” I joked, my voice muffled by their bodies. They let go of me and stepped back just as Ginny launched herself at me and gave me a tight hug. I hugged her just as tightly, laughing as I said, “I’ve missed you, Ginny.”

“We’ve all missed you, ‘Mione. You could’ve come and stayed with us, you know!” Ginny complained.

“Well Kingsley and I had to go to Australia to get my parents’ memories back, so I’ve been with them all summer, filling them in on everything that happened,” I answered, tears pricking in the corners of my eyes. Harry put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed once, conveying his sympathy. “And I also had some very serious owling to do with McGonagall about this,” I pulled the Head Girl badge out of my jeans pocket and smiled brightly.

All of them clapped and congratulated me on getting the position I’d so desperately hoped for since first year. “Come on then, we’ve only got ten minutes before the train leaves!” I said, concerned.

With that, all the Weasleys and lone Potter moved quicker than I had seen them in a long time to get all of Harry, Ron, and Ginny’s belongings on the train. There was a last round of hugs, before the four of us stepped onto the train and waved as it pulled out of the station, bound for Hogwarts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

I arrived on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at ten forty-four with little trouble. Quickly, while keeping my head down, I loaded my trunk and owl onto the train and ducked into the Heads’ compartment, closing the curtains with a flick of my wand.

At last, able to relax somewhat, I closed my eyes and put my hands behind my head, leaning back against the plush burgundy seat in the hopes of being able to get a quick snooze in before Granger came barging in.

As luck would have it though, she burst into the compartment not ten minutes later. “Well hello to you too, Granger,” I said snootily.

“Malfoy, what in Merlin’s pants do you want? Why are you in here?” Hermione asked angrily.

I sat up, genuinely smiled at her, and pulled out a small, shiny object, holding it out to her. She slowly sank onto a seat near me, taking it from my grasp.

Hermione flipped the badge over, noting it read ‘Head Boy’ in bold emerald letters. She continued inspecting it, running her fingers over it and conducting spellwork on it—most likely in the hopes of discovering it to be a fake.

She looked at me in disbelief. “Seriously, Malfoy? _You’re_ the Head Boy this year? Was Dumbledore barking mad to make the boy who tried to kill him the Head Boy?”

Uncomfortable silence filled the room. She tossed it back to me and began to scrutinize the compartment inch by inch. Attempting to control my temper, I cleared my throat.

“Listen, Granger. I know we’ve had our issues in the past and I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I shifted on my seat, straightening up and fingering the badge in my hands.

“Are you really apologizing for your bullying of me? You called me a mudblood for seven years of my life. How do you _think_ that’s affected me, Malfoy?” Hermione glowered, her eyes blazing and her breathing rapid..

“Just hear me out, Granger, all right? I’m trying to clean up the enormous mess I’ve made and restore some value to the Malfoy name. And, since you have deemed this thing real, I suppose I have to return to Hogwarts and face everyone I fought against in the war. With the threat of an Azkaban sentence still hanging over me, I think that’s the best option for me at the moment. No matter what I do, everyone is going to judge me for my actions, and I can’t deny them that right. But you might be different, and that’s what I’m hoping for,” he paused. Hermione merely arched an eyebrow as he added, “Granger, during the fighting I saved you from those Death Eaters that were torturing you. ”

“You have a lot of nerve to talk about your dear Auntie Bella like that, _Draco_ ,” she hissed.

My heart dropped and I could feel my facial expression fall into one I knew looked helpless. “You don’t remember.”

“Remember what?” she asked, eying me warily.

“I saved you in the Battle of Hogwarts from Dolohov and MacNair. They were torturing you with the Cruciatus curse for sheer pleasure and didn’t look like they had any plans to stop until I stepped in and saved you.”

Hermione stared at me, clearly completely flabbergasted at what I was describing.

I rubbed a hand over my face. “Bloody hell, your mental block was too strong; you shut it out completely,” I squeezed my hands into tight fists. “I need your help, Granger. I need you to help show the world I’m a better person than I was back in school, than I was during the war. Dumbledore must have planned something if he wanted me to be Head Boy and you to be Head Girl for our seventh year,” my voice was pleading and sounded pathetic, but I couldn’t help it.

Hermione studied me before finally replying, “You have to do it yourself. I cannot help you. What you’re talking about, what _you claim to have_ happened, I don’t recall ever occurring. Just because you have faith in me does not mean I have faith in you. I need to see it before I’ll believe it. If you can show me you’ve really changed, Malfoy, then I might be willing to help. If you fail to do so, this will be the end for you, and I will stand by and watch you fall,” she voiced fiercely, warning lacing her words.

She stood and walked out of the room, not giving me any time to respond to what she had said before she slammed the compartment door closed.

I pulled at my hair, suppressing a frustrated roar. _Something must have happened to her memories when I told her to block the rescue. The adrenaline from the battle must have altered the way her mental walls were blocking the memory, almost like an Obliviate. I know the memory was still there, somewhere. I tried using Legilimency on her while watching her at Florean’s, but I couldn’t get through even the first wall of her defenses_.

Sighing heavily, I shoved the Head Boy badge back into my pocket and swore under my breath. I quickly changed into my robes, keeping the badge in my pocket. Hermione returned a few moments later, dressed in her Gryffindor robes and looking much calmer but still miffed about the argument.

Before I could speak another word to her, a rapid knock sounded on the compartment door. Glaring at Hermione, I moved around her and opened the door a crack. “What do you lot want?” I barked, seeing the group of twenty or so students hovering outside.

“Er, we’re here for the Prefects meeting?” a small Hufflepuff girl supplied.

“Oh. Er…one second,” I closed the door and turned to Granger. “Should we let them in and get this over with?” I queried.

She just glared at me again and said tightly, “Don’t think this is over yet.” With that, she sat on the seat facing the door and pulled out a pad of parchment and quill. Taking my cue, I opened the door again and each of the Prefects, new and old, filed in until the compartment was almost unbearable. I noticed Weaselbee was missing from the group, and that there was a much larger pool of fifth year prefects than the sixth and seventh years. Hermione immediately went into what I had dubbed as her ‘teacher’s pet’ mode and started the meeting. I took the open seat next her to, careful to leave a few inches of space between us as a buffer zone.

“Welcome, everyone! To those of you that are new to this, don’t be afraid to ask either Mr. Malfoy, myself, or an older Prefect any questions you have. Now, this past year was difficult, frightening, and scarred most, if not all of us. This is something we’ll have to take in consideration this year as Prefects. Essentially, our jobs are the same, with some slight differences to account for the, um, _state_ , the War put us in,” Hermione passed around papers with descriptions of some disorders and how to handle certain situations if they came to pass in the middle of the day versus at night.

I tuned her out, reading through the handout and appreciating the lengths she went to in describing and explaining what triggers were and how to handle each one independently of another, PTSD and its side-effects, nightmares, and a much more extensive list. Hermione’s voice pierced my thoughts as she asked if anyone had any questions.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” a pompous voice said. I looked in the direction the voice came from and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley glaring in my direction. “Why is _he_ here?”

Immediately, every set of eyes was on me. Menacingly, I stood up and pulled the badge out of my pocket to hold it out at eye level for everyone to see. “I’m here because Dumbledore wanted me here. I’m here because I have the right to finish my education. If any of you doubt my motives, you can bring your issues directly to me, not to the whole school. I’ll respect you if you respect me,” I stated darkly.

The tension in the air was palpable. Hermione cut the silence, cordially saying, “Okay, well, that’s all we’ve got for you for now. After the welcome feast, I’ll let you know patrol rounds and who you’ll be partnered with. Enjoy the rest of the train ride and the feast. It’s good to have you all back this year.”

~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

Once the last Prefect left, I shut the door and exhaled loudly, collapsing on the seat nearest the door.

“Well, that hardly could’ve gone worse, don’t you think?” I said, a small smile breaking over my face as I looked at Malfoy.

“It certainly could’ve gone better, that’s for sure,” he replied tartly, not in the mood for mindless chatter.

“Malfoy, look. What you told me earlier was a lot to take in, and I severely overreacted. What you spoke of seemed so impossible I took it as a ruse to earn yourself favor with me but as it so happens, I can see where you might actually want that. But my earlier statement still stands—you have to help yourself before I can help you,” I expressed calmly.

After I got nothing but a single nod in response, I busied myself with studying the passing landscape of the Scottish mountains as the day slowly faded into night.


	3. Chapter Two

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

It was a comfort to step off of the Hogwarts Express and see Hagrid standing there with the same lantern he’d had six years ago, herding the new first years to the boats. He gave me a wave and a smile and I could barely restrain myself from flinging myself at him and giving him a hug. But, being of good propriety, I smiled and waved back before turning my attention to shepherding the other students to the carriages.

Admittedly, I was somewhat worried about the way some of the younger students would respond to the thestrals, but their nearly immediate acceptance of the curious creatures lifted a weight off my chest. I climbed into a carriage with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Neville. Looking back, I noticed Malfoy awkwardly standing alone.

 _I’m so going to regret doing this._ “Malfoy, come on. Head Boy can’t be late for the welcome feast, now can he?” I teased, endeavoring to lighten the mood a bit.

He hesitated for a moment before climbing in and sitting next to me. A silence descended upon the other four in the carriage as he sat down. _Yeah…definitely regretting this_.

“So, Malfoy, you’re Head Boy? How’d you get that arranged?” Ron asked with a scowl.

Before I could step in, Malfoy responded so cold, yet so polite, I shivered. “Perhaps I’m Head Boy because I was second in the class and Dumbledore specifically _wished_ me to be. I noticed you weren’t at the Prefects meeting on the train; care to explain that, Weasley?”

Ron turned a violent shade of red, spluttering, but Harry’s restraining hand on his wrist prevented him from doing something rash. I released a breath I didn’t know I had been holding and turned to Neville and struck up a conversation about his duties with Professor Sprout and how elated he had been when he’d gotten the owl about it.   
  
I glanced to my right and noticed Draco had rearranged his features into a porcelain-like mask. Glancing to my left showed a sore Ron being talked to by Harry and Ginny quietly.

Sighing to myself, I realized just how much work it was going to take to help everyone recover from the War and its aftereffects.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A dark figure crept in the shadows by the castle walls, slipping into a hidden entrance to the castle. The figure murmured a complicated spell in Latin and waved his wand, making the entrance disappear. In the dim torchlight, a jagged smile stretched across pockmarked skin before the figure was swallowed up in darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the last few returning students trickled into the newly repaired Great Hall, a somber atmosphere spread through everyone. The House tables suddenly seemed much too large for the students sitting at them, the hall itself too big for the decimated student body. The high table was much grimmer than it used to be, but three new faces piqued interest in some of the students, especially the older ones.

Hermione looked at Draco and noticed he looked rather despondent; and she wondered if it had to do with the fact that many of his housemates had not elected to return for fear of retribution, or if it were something else entirely. A pang of sympathy went through her, and she decided she would be civil towards him for the time being.

Then the doors opened, echoing loudly through the hall, as Professor Sinistra lead in a group of roughly a hundred scared eleven year-olds to the Sorting Hat. Professor McGonagall, now the Headmistress, raised a hand for silence. The quiet chatter died down and every head turned towards the Sorting Hat expectantly.

The Sorting Hat sprang to life, earning a few gasps in surprise from the new first years. It began its song reminiscing about life before the War and how, if everyone put the effort into it, then they could have that life again. It sang about the tragedies and casualties of the Battle of Hogwarts, causing many students to tear up or even full on cry, as the dark scenes replayed in their minds. Quickly, it moved on and sang of love and hope:

_Because Harry Potter sacrificed his life for us that night_

_Inside all of us lies protection of the highest kind_

_We must use that hope and climb into the light_

_Remember, forgive, but do not forget, it is within our minds our placement we will find_

After the final note of its song faded, silence descended upon the Great Hall as students comforted each other and composed themselves. Immediately, Professor Sinistra unrolled the scroll she was holding and read off the first name to be sorted. “Collins, Morgan.” A timid-looking boy stepped up to the stool and sat down.

The Sorting Hat debated for a moment before shouting, “Hufflepuff!” The Sorting continued at a solid pace, getting through all one hundred students relatively efficiently. Once all of them had been welcomed to their new Houses, Professor Sinistra picked up the stool with the Hat on it and left the Hall to put it away in the Headmistress’s office. With each House having gained twenty-five new members each, the Great Hall suddenly didn’t seem so barren and desolate.

It was at this point Professor McGonagall rose from her chair and stood behind the podium. Solemnly, she folded her hands together and rested them on the back of the eagle. “Welcome, staff and students, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before you tuck in to the feast, I have a few matters to discuss. Many of you lost loved ones; quite a few were students here, a few too young to even fight. They died so that we could create a better society: one without prejudice, without hatred, and fear. A society built on love, hope, and friendship,” she paused at this point and nodded to Professor Sinistra.

Professor Sinistra unveiled a large black marble plaque centered on the wall directly behind the Headmistress’s chair. “And to honour those lost to us in the Second Wizarding War and the First, the Hogwarts staff created this in their memory, in the hopes that their efforts not be forgotten. If you wish to know more, simply tap the name and say ‘Nomine Revelio.’” Whispers raced down the tables.

“Now, this year will be somewhat different than in years past. Due to repeating years, all seventh year students will be moved into a dormitory together. If you have any issues with this arrangement, please see me directly after the feast. As per usual, the Forbidden Forest is off limits to every student and please, do not taunt the squid in the Black Lake or you will get detention. It pleases me to announce your Head Boy and Girl this year are Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger,” McGonagall was cut off as outraged cries and insults were thrown at Malfoy.

“Silence! I will not tolerate petty hate any longer! Your table does not define you, nor does your House, nor do your previous actions, no matter how troublesome they might have been. It is up to you, as students, to unite and act together, because if Hogwarts is split as it has been for _far_ too long, then we might have another war on our hands. It is highly recommended you all make some new friends this year; prejudice will not be permitted nor tolerated. We all lost far too much these past years to take steps backward,” McGonagall stated coolly.

“Now, back to happier subjects, we also have three new professors this term, filling the positions for Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions. Professor Tatiana Tawley will be taking over my position in teaching Transfiguration, Professor Dean Dragoran will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and finally Professor Isaac Imohera will be taking over as Potions Master for Professor Slughorn, as he wished to return to retirement.”

Loud clapping filled the Great Hall as she finished introducing the professors, each rising and giving a polite nod or wave before resuming their seats. “Now that those things have been covered, I believe you all are hungry,” she smiled, raising her hands. Instantly, platters of food and goblets filled the tables, and bubbly voices sprang out. “In the words of the late Professor Dumbledore, ‘Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!’”

Another round of applause, albeit a little hasty, followed her closing words as students and staff alike dug in to the feast prepared by the house elves in the kitchens below. The meal passed quickly, with a polite ‘pass the salt please’ here and a ‘can I try some of that?’ there and easy, excited conversations going on everywhere. The Slytherin table, although a little forlorn looking, was still in good spirits; even Malfoy was enjoying himself, talking with Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, both of whom felt the need to finish out their education to restore some pride to their family names. Theodore Nott sat with them as well, but was much quieter than the rest, as per usual.

~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

Soon enough, everyone having eaten their fill and become very sleepy in the process, it was time to go to the dormitories. Prefects led the first years out first, then the rest of the Houses bolted out of the Great Hall, taking whatever which way they so pleased. The other seventh years and I hung around after, not sure where we were to go.

Professor McGonagall came down from the high table and explained loud enough so everyone could hear her, “Your dormitory is behind a portrait of the Four Founders on the Fourth floor, near the Head dormitory. The password is ‘House Unity’. Because there are so few of you, there are just two towers with a few separate designated bedrooms so please, do not try and separate into your Houses. These people _are_ your House now, generally speaking. Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger, your dormitory lies behind a portrait of a young Merlin, and the password is ‘Dumbledore.’ Do try and get along! Off you go now!” she shooed us off.

The twenty or so of us walked off together to the fourth floor, making quiet conversation.

“Sorry, what’s the password again? I forgot what McGonagall said it was already,” Neville asked sheepishly.

Everyone else chuckled at Neville’s forgetfulness. Dean answered him, “House Unity, Longbottom. Glad to know we can still count on you to forget the password.” The Gryffindors of the group really laughed at this, but I was somewhat perplexed as to what the joke was. Then I remembered in second year when I stole his Remembrall, and it clicked for me.

We reached the portrait of the Founders then and they made a grandiose show of letting Neville give the password. The portrait swung open with laughter from both its inhabitants and the seventh years. This was where Hermione and I were supposed to break off.

“See you guys later!” Hermione said cheerfully, waving at them before the portrait hole closed. We walked down the corridor a while longer before reaching a large portrait of what appeared to be a teenage version of the great wizard Merlin. “Password?” he prompted jovially.

“Dumbledore,” I said. He did an exaggerated bow as the door behind his frame swung open to allow us in. Being the gentleman I was, I let Granger go first. It was I made the wrong decision because once I stepped inside I couldn’t go anywhere because she was blocking the way. Even though I was nearly a foot taller than her, her bushy hair still blocked part of my view so I carefully eased around her and took a few steps into the common room so I could get a proper look at what was to be our living space for the next nine months.

Even for my standards, it was rather extravagant, especially for a school dormitory. The walls were cream with spots of scarlet red and emerald green that made it look like a very intricate mosaic. The sofa and plush armchairs chairs were also cream colored, and looked like they would be heavenly to lie down on and sleep forever. A roaring brick fireplace opposed the couch and chairs and an ebony coffee table with the Hogwarts crest engraved on it sat in the middle of the furniture. A small kitchenette was partially hidden behind an inky, black wooden bookshelf, complete with muggle contraptions I had no knowledge of, nor a want to find out. In the center of the area was a small, round wooden table with four chairs around it.

I heard a gasp from somewhere behind me and I turned around but didn’t see Granger in the immediate area. I looked to the left behind the sitting area and saw a three-stair hallway leading to what I presumed would be our bedrooms and bathroom. There were three doors, two of which were facing each other in the narrow hallway; one had ‘HG’ in red and gold, and the other had ‘DM’ in emerald and silver. The third door was at the end of the hallway, and it was slightly ajar. After deciding I’d take a look at my room later when I actually went in there to sleep, I went into the bathroom to see if that was where Granger’s gasp had come from.

Pushing the door open all the way, I proved myself correct. Granger was currently inspecting the large bathtub with twenty different taps on it. The floor of the bathroom and bottom of the bathtub were tiled in black marble. The shower was nearly as nice as the bathtub; it boasted five different nozzle buttons and twelve settings for each of the five nozzle buttons. Thankfully, there were two deep sinks set into a black marble countertop, with medicine cabinets behind two sections of the three-part mirror. All of the cabinets were white, as was the stand of the bathtub and walls of the shower. The toilet was pure white porcelain, standard for most bathrooms, Malfoy Manor’s included. I hated to say it, but I was impressed. Hogwarts had outdone itself with comfort for the Heads.

“Well, Granger. I’d hate to break you two up, but I’d really like to use the loo, and I’d appreciate not having you in here while I’m doing my business,” I said, holding back a snicker at her jumping when I spoke. “And I call shower first in the morning!” I rushed out, smirking at her dismay.

“Fine! Prat,” she retorted, walking out and closing the door behind her.

Quickly I relieved myself and returned to the sitting area, wanting to try talking with her again about her memory issue. I saw her sitting with her legs tucked up under her on the couch, so I opted for one of the armchairs instead. Right as I opened my mouth, though, a loud crack sounded and a small house elf in a flowery sundress and booties appeared in front of the fire.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, containing my surprise. Hermione jerked a little at the noise and appearance of the elf.

“Mr. Malfoy, sir, and Ms. Granger, madam, my name is Starry. Sir and madam, I am your personal house elf. Starry can send messages, sir and madam, to Headmistress McGonagall or other professors or sir’s and madam’s friends. Starry can get food from the kitchens for you, sir and madam, and many other things for you, sir and madam. Does Mr. Malfoy or Ms. Granger have any requests for Starry?” the house elf recited as if reading from a script.

Granger and I shared a glance before I spoke first. “Yes, actually we do. There’s no need to address us as ‘sir’ or ‘madam.’ Please, call me Draco,” I said gently.

“And you can call me Hermione,” she butted in.

Starry nodded vigorously. “Is there anything else Starry can do for si-Draco and Hermione?”

“I think we’re good for tonight, Starry, thank you. If we need anything in the morning we’ll call you,” I said, giving her a small smile.

Starry nodded once more before snapping her fingers and disapparating. The common room felt eerily silent after the loud crack of disapparation faded from my ears. I cleared my throat and yawned loudly, effectively breaking the silence.

Granger was studying me curiously as if I’d just sprouted horns from my forehead. It took me a moment to realize she was looking at me so oddly because I’d treated Starry nicely. She’d never seen me treat a house elf like they weren’t rubbish beneath my feet. I could see the cogs turning in her head and the million questions burning on her lips.

“Well, I’d love to sit up and talk about our feelings, Granger, but I’m going to bed. See you in the morning,” I ran a hand through my hair, stood up and then climbed the three stairs to the upper level, opened the door with my initials on it, and quickly slipped inside.

My room was surprisingly cozy. The walls were the same cream color as the common room, but there were only green spots. Lush carpet covered the floor. The wardrobe and vanity-dresser combination were inky, black-stained oak wood. Against the far wall, next to a big picture window overlooking the Quidditch pitch with a gratuitous window seat, was a massive four-poster bed. The duvet was emerald green in color, embroidered with a large Slytherin crest done with black stitching. Matching silver and emerald striped curtains hung loosely at the corners of the bed. My battered school trunk lay at the foot of my bed. Opening it up, I realized it was empty and guessed that all of my clothes had been put away in the wardrobe and dresser, presumably by Starry.

I walked over to the dresser to see that I was correct and pulled out the first t-shirt and pair of silk boxers I grabbed. Changing into them quickly, I threw my robes on the ground, ignoring the hamper that had just materialized, crawled onto the magnificent bed, and soon fell asleep—feeling safer than I had in the past two years.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

After Draco left for his room I quickly followed suit, curious to see what lay behind my door. The room was just as beautiful as the common room and bathroom. Soft, thick carpet covered the entire expanse of the room. The walls were the same cream color, but with only red spots, and the wardrobe and vanity were mahogany-stained oak wood. There was a large window overlooking the Black Lake that held a very wide window seat, perfect for reading. Against the wall next to it was my four-poster bed. Scarlet and gold hangings framed a scarlet bedspread, which was embroidered with a large Gryffindor emblem done with gold stitching.

Crookshanks made an appearance then, jumping onto my bed and sitting square in the middle of the Gryffindor crest. I quickly changed into an old pair of shorts and a t-shirt and grabbed _Hamlet_ out of my trunk. Sitting cross-legged in the window seat, I read for a while by a mixture of both wand-light and moonlight.

After what must have been about an hour or so, I decided a nice, steaming hot shower before bed sounded wonderful. Taking my fluffy robe from the wardrobe and putting on a pair of flip-flops, I picked my wand up from the window seat and went to the bathroom. The ostentatiousness of it still amazed me three hours later; I felt like I would never get used to having all of this.

I slipped off my shoes and quietly padded over to the cabinet, making sure to grab scarlet towels and _not_ emerald ones and set them alongside my robe on the ground by the shower. Deducting that if my clothes had already been put away, my other stuff had been as well. I looked in the shower, and sure enough, all of my products and razor were already in there, looking somewhat ridiculous to Malfoy’s preposterously expensive soaps and razor. Turning the water on with the nozzle for the overhead showerhead, I stripped down and put my clothes in a pile next to my robe and towels.

Stepping in to the steam-filled shower was like heaven on earth. The water was just the right temperature, not scalding hot or lukewarm, and I felt the knots and tension ooze right out of me. I worked my favorite strawberry scented shampoo through my hair, followed by conditioner, and finally my special cream that kept it from frizzing up horribly. Next, I lathered my loofa up with vanilla body wash and really scrubbed myself clean. Finally, I just stood under the relaxing spray, letting it wash away any remaining tenseness and worry from my body before I turned the water off and stepped out.

Goosebumps raced across my skin as my feet hit the cold marble floor. I quickly dried myself off with the first towel and wrapped my hair up with the second one. I put my robe on and was just about to do some final sleep prep when Malfoy barged in, rubbing his eyes blearily.

“Malfoy! Get out!” I shrieked, covering myself with yet another towel even though it was completely unnecessary.

“Bloody hell, Granger, sorry!” he remarked, instantly turning one hundred and eighty degrees and slamming the door behind him.

 _Well if this isn’t_ just _the thing you were expecting, I don’t know what to think,_ I said to myself. _I’m going to have a talk with that boy in the morning about privacy!_

Completely positive that encounter had just ruined the work of the shower, I huffed in annoyance and returned to my room. Putting the clothes I’d had on earlier back on, I unwrapped the towel on my head and performed a quick drying spell on my hair. After throwing the wet towels in the hamper that had magically appeared a minute ago, I hung my robe back onto its hook on the back of my door.

Closing the curtains around my four-poster as I crawled onto it, I pulled the covers back on my bed and burrowed deep down in them. Soon enough, Crookshanks hopped up and joined me. I fell asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :) Thanks for being interested in my story! This is a piece I have posted on another site but I wanted to expand its audience so I'm posting it here! Reviews are very much appreciated as it lets me know what you like and don't like or if there are errors. I'll have the next chapter up soon! :)  
> ~Madi


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize beforehand for the way I've written this chapter--it's very gushy and slightly OOC for Draco and Hermione. It's not how the rest of the story will be written at all, I just don't have time to go back and heavily edit this chapter at this point in time.

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

I woke up to loud banging sounds coming from Malfoy’s room. Groaning, I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was only half past eight. I slid out of bed onto the carpet, Crookshanks meowing angrily at me for leaving him. The banging sounds continued, so I opened my door, crossed the hallway in a stride and a half and barged into Malfoy’s room, an angry remark waiting on the tip of my tongue. 

My anger faded into pure confusion as I watched Malfoy digging through his school trunk, wardrobe, and dresser, clearly looking for something important. I leaned on the doorframe, crossing my arms and jutting my hip out. He didn’t notice my presence at all, so after he leaned halfway into his trunk, I loudly protested, “For the love of Merlin, what are you doing?” I held in a snigger as he nearly fell all the way in.

He shot a glare at me and snapped, “I’m looking for something important. That bloody house elf must’ve stowed it somewhere!” Malfoy resumed digging in his dresser, throwing out all manner of clothing items.

“She’s a house elf, remember?” I snarkily reminded him.

Malfoy dropped his head in shame and mumbled her name. With a loud crack Starry appeared next to the window.   
  
Starry looked incredibly happy to have been called upon. “Master Draco called?”

“Yes. Please, don’t call me that, it makes me sound too much like my father. Only call me Draco, no titles or formalities needed. The same goes for Hermione here as well,” he instructed. Starry nodded her head vigorously in understanding. “I’m looking for a certain family heirloom I brought along with me. It’s got the Malfoy coat of arms on it and holds a lot of meaning to me. I’ve looked everywhere for it and haven’t found it yet, and I’ve completely destroyed all of your hard work.”

The little house elf snapped her fingers once; all of Malfoy’s clothing, schoolbooks, and other possessions flew back into their proper places. Starry then crossed over to the bookshelf and beckoned Malfoy over. She pointed at something on one of the shelves and whispered something to him I couldn’t make out. He nodded, politely thanked her, and sauntered up to me. I raised an eyebrow in slight appreciation at his manner with her.

“Unless you’ve got something you need Starry to do for you, she can be dismissed for now,” he said. 

I replied, “At the moment I don’t have anything, considering I was enjoying a good sleep before your banging about woke me up.” I turned to Starry and said, “Thanks for helping out this early in the morning, Starry. We’ll call you if we need you again.” The house elf curtsied and disappeared with a loud crack.

I was taking in Malfoy’s bedroom when he cleared his throat rather pointedly. “What?” I snapped.

“It’s only the first morning and you’re already out to get me! Look, if we can manage to survive today, I think we can handle nine months. My policy is that I’ll respect your privacy if you respect mine; oh, and civility wouldn’t be a bad thing either. Do you think you can manage that?” Malfoy proposed, his eyes searching my own questioningly.

“I suppose that’s logical,” I said slowly in an attempt to draw out the inevitable. “But I get the bathroom at night to shower, and you are not allowed in until I am _completely_ dressed!” I stressed.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Fine, fine, whatever. Well I’m going to take a shower now but I wouldn’t mind having someone to walk down to breakfast with later, if you don’t mind being in the prolonged company of an ex-Death Eater,” he said, his tone jovial but his eyes serious.

“I don’t mind at all,” I answered, tentatively smiling.

The hardness in his eyes softened for a moment before the mask returned, concealing everything behind porcelain. Malfoy motioned me out of the doorway so he could close his door. I clumsily stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding an embarrassing trip over my own feet. He shut the door almost before I was out of the way. I harrumphed and returned to my room.

Figuring that Malfoy probably took forever to beautify himself, I got ready for the day myself. I put on a pair of jeans, a tan shirt under a black cardigan, and black ballet flats. Taming my hair with a quick spell from my wand, I did one last once-over in the full-length mirror next to the wardrobe.

Satisfied, I grabbed _Hamlet_ and went down to the common room to get through more of it. I was just about to start the climactic Act V when I heard one door open and close, and then a second one do the same a few seconds later. Finally, Malfoy’s bedroom door opened and closed for the last time, and I listened to him walk down to the common room. Setting my book down on the coffee table, I stood and picked up my wand, stuffing it into my back pocket.

I turned around and my eyes went wide at what I saw. Malfoy was dressed neatly in a deep green shirt with his sleeves rolled halfway and dark pants and trainers.

“What, Granger, never seen expensive clothing?” he smirked.

Startled, I shook my head and smartly replied, “No, I’ve just never seen you in such casual clothing, is all. You could almost fit in to the muggle world with that.”

Apparently Malfoy wasn’t in the mood to argue, as he changed the subject. “What book are you reading now? I thought you’d already read everything in the world by now.”

I was genuinely surprised at his interest in my reading habits. “It’s _Hamlet_ by William Shakespeare. He’s a muggle playwright from—“ he cut me off.

“I know who Shakespeare is, Granger. I’m not completely ignorant in terms of literature. Far from it, in fact,” he said, his face slowly warming up from its usual frostiness. “I like Shakespeare’s work well enough, but I believe Mark Twain’s works are more relevant in today’s world and illustrate social inequalities that are still present today in both muggle and wizarding society.”

Dumbfounded, it took me a moment to collect my thoughts to give an intelligent answer. “I would agree on that fact, but Shakespeare has some of the greatest, well-known works, ever. His comedies and tragedies alike all have lessons to be learned from the story told, and how ridiculous some things are, like _Romeo & Juliet_. The preposterousness of Romeo and Juliet wanting to get married after knowing each other for less than a day just to rebel against their families is a reflection of how families during that time were ridiculously worried about who their children should marry so they could get more money. An idea that is simply ridiculous, in my opinion. Shakespeare’s too, I’d like to think.”

Malfoy nodded his head, absorbing my statements. Subconsciously, we had started the walk down to breakfast, already making it out of the portrait hole and down past the seventh year dormitory. We continued our literature discussion, going all the way through classical literature and up to more recent books like _Lord of the Flies_ and _Pride & Prejudice_.

We rounded the corner to go down the moving staircases, still discussing heartily. As we reached the staircase closest to us, I noticed the usual hubbub of students going to breakfast was missing. I looked down, and all of the students below, above, and around us were just staring at us, stuck in place like this was the most improbable thing they’d ever seen.

“—so you see, Granger? Mr. Darcy just could not appreciate Elizabeth in the beginning because he didn’t understand her fire and how her upbringing had given that to her, while his comfortable…” Malfoy trailed off. “Why is everyone bloody staring at us, Granger?” he murmured.

“Perhaps because we make an unusual pair,” I murmured back, hardly moving my lips.

“Oi, move along you lot! Nothing to see here!” Malfoy barked out, a smirk gracing his lips as everyone scattered immediately, afraid of losing House points before term really even began. “What were we discussing before this?” he asked politely.

“I believe you were prattling on about how Mr. Darcy didn’t deserve Elizabeth because she wasn’t ‘right’ for him,” I bantered. We finally reached the bottom of the moving staircases and joined the steady stream of teenagers in muggle clothing traipsing towards the Great Hall.

He chuckled. “Right, right. Well, as I was saying, I don’t think that Mr. Darcy should have waited so long to tell Elizabeth he wanted to marry her! It’s just cruel in my opinion. If you love someone, you should tell them immediately, not wait because it’s not proper manners or something stupid like that; it makes you seem thick. But I did enjoy that scene because she went out in the rain, where she very well could have gotten seriously ill, just to prove that she loved him and he loved her,” he shook his head. “The things people will do for love.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Isn’t doing anything for someone you love one of the great things humankind can do? Wouldn’t you do just about anything for your mother?” I countered.

“Yes of course, in a heartbeat,” he replied fluidly. “However, that doesn’t mean I’d put off telling the love of my life that I love her if it’s not the right moment. Once I find out it’s her, I’m going to tell her as soon as I possibly can because I want to love her and for her to love me for as long as the rest of our lives allow us to.”

A weird feeling settled in my stomach at Malfoy’s words. “Wow, I didn’t know you were the lovey-dovey sort, Malfoy! How adorable,” I said, my voice sickly-sweet, really rubbing his admission in.

“Oh bugger off, Granger. You’re the one who’s all lovey-dovey with Weasley anyway,” he gave me a smug smile.

“Considering the fact that we aren’t together, nor have we been since about a month after the Battle, I’d have to say you’re at least half-wrong with your statement,” I stated.

Malfoy gave me a baffled look. “Really? Good for you. I’d honestly pegged you as going for Potter because he seemed a little less thick, but he’s got Weaslette so that never worked out either then.”

He flinched as I swatted him on the arm. “They’re still my best friends, Malfoy!”

“All right, sorry! No need to be so punchy-feely!” he apologised.

“Why were you ever concerned about who I had an interest anyway, hmm?” I prodded.

“Well I knew how smart you were—you beat me at literally every class except Potions, remember—so if you settled for Weasley, I don’t think you would’ve been very happy because he can’t challenge you intellectually,” he said, “before you hit me again, let me explain. With what I’ve seen of Weasley, he’s not as bright as you are, so you’d be hard-pressed to have rational, in-depth discussions with him about anything besides Quidditch, something of which you have a general distaste for. You need someone who can challenge you in smarts and still has a kind heart. Potter’s got the kind heart, but he’s obviously with the Weasley girl forever and ever so that’s out of the window.”

I was surprised my mouth hadn’t dropped down to the floor in disbelief at the side of Malfoy I was seeing for the first time ever. Then his persona changed immediately as more students surrounded us.

“What happened to your Bulgarian friend, Viktor Krum, eh Granger? Hell, what about that brick McLaggen? I bet he was fun,” Malfoy said mischievously.

“Why are you asking me all of these questions about my love life, Malfoy? What’s in it for you?” I asked, somewhat aggravated at him now, but unsure why.

“Nothing is in it for me, I just enjoy pushing your buttons. We seem to get along better when we’re arguing about something,” he remarked.

I pondered that for a moment, and realized he was right. We’d been discussing the merits of classic literature all morning and had yet to get into it with each other. “I hate to say that you’re right, but it is true,” I conceded. My stomach grumbled loudly then, and I flushed pink. “Come on you prat, I’m hungry!”

We weaved our way through slow-moving bodies towards the Great Hall and the promise of a good meal.

We were blithely unaware of the looks shared between students of all ages around us. No one noticed the movement in a stone knight statue’s alcove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, apologizing for the OOC-ness but I figured that's okay for now. It gets darker very soon, and our villain makes an appearance of sorts! Please leave a review if you have questions or comments or ideas about where it's going and about my writing! It's the only way I really know how you guys like my writing, so it's very much appreciated!


	5. Chapter Four

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

As soon as we entered the Great Hall and went our separate ways, both of us wearing carefully constructed indifferent faces. I strolled over to the Slytherin table, seating myself next to Blaise, facing the three other tables. I watched Hermione sit down with Potter and Weasley, and barely contained a look of distaste. 

“Draco,” Blaise acknowledged me. “Have a rough first night with Granger?”

 _Damn, I forgot how good he is at reading people. Bugger._ “You could say that,” I drawled, picking a green apple off a platter of them nearby. I checked my mental shields to make sure they were still up; I didn’t want Blaise’s prying mind to see things he didn’t need to know about yet.

Taking a bite of my apple, I risked a glance over at her again and caught her looking at me. I raised my eyebrow as if to say, “Really?” and she rolled her eyes at me before turning to respond to something Ginny said. I turned my attention back to Blaise to find him scrutinizing me.

“What is it, Blaise? I haven’t got all day to sit here and wait for you to speak, I’ve got important things to do today,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Like Granger?” he said smartly, earning him a punch. “Ow, that bloody hurt!” 

“Then don’t insult me. I’d never go for that.” I said coolly. I scooped a large portion of eggs onto my plate, along with some bacon and toast. “Now can I please eat in peace or are you going to be replacing Crabbe as idiot number one?” I laid the sarcasm on thickly.

“All right, fine. Eat, for Merlin’s sake,” Blaise surrendered, getting food of his own. Pansy and Millicent joined us soon after that, and I let myself get pulled in to the girls’ mindless chatter about the latest _Witch Weekly_ and how they were sad that Benedict Cumbersnatch was getting married.

Soon enough, students began filtering out of the hall, finished with breakfast, going outside to enjoy the good fall weather. I caught Granger’s eye again and nodded almost imperceptibly towards the doors, nonverbally telling her to hurry up. I watched as she quickly finished drinking her juice and said her goodbyes before standing up from the Gryffindor table and walking out of the Great Hall. I waited precisely one minute and forty-nine seconds before excusing myself from Pansy and Millicent’s suffocating presence.

I met her outside by the marble staircase going to the first floor. “Granger,” I greeted her.

“Malfoy,” she replied, equally as cordial. “McGonagall wants us to show some of the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws around the castle and grounds so they aren’t lost on the first day of classes before we meet with her. Their Prefects should be coming down with them momentarily.”

I nodded in understanding, adjusting my position so my Head Boy badge gleamed in the daylight streaming in from the open front doors. I was reluctant to admit it, but I was very humbled that Dumbledore thought highly enough of me to make me Head Boy, even after I’d attempted to kill him multiple times. Also, it distanced me from my father. Even though he’d managed to stay out of Azkaban after the war—thanks to Potter—I still refused to accept his actions as his way of showing he cared for mother and I. He’s done far too many cruel things to muggles, muggleborns, anyone against the Dark Lord, and his family to deserve what he’s gotten. Subconsciously I itched my left forearm, hating the mark there, darkness branded into my skin forever.

Granger nudged me with her hand on my arm, shaking me out of my reverie. We watched as the Prefects led the awestruck first years down the stairs to us. “Play nice, Malfoy,” she muttered to me under her breath. “Obviously,” I drawled back, assuming what I hoped was a friendly facial expression.

“Hello everyone! I’m your Head Girl, Hermione Granger, and this is your Head Boy, Draco Malfoy. Thanks, Justin, Hannah, Padma, and Terry. We’re going to start with a tour of the grounds,” Granger began, starting to walk outside. Hoping I could just follow her and not say a word, we shepherded the twenty students outside towards the greenhouses. “Here is where you’ll have all of your Herbology classes with Professor Sprout and occasionally with a student trainee, Mr. Longbottom. Sometimes you’ll be working in the vegetable patches for Herbology as well, which are just behind the greenhouses. Keep up, everyone!” Granger voiced louder, noticing a few stragglers falling behind.

“Granger, slow your pace down a little bit. They can’t keep up with your manic stride,” I advised. She slowed her walking down greatly, and everyone caught up. “Sorry about that, everyone! Now, who can see that big willow tree in the distance?”

Heads turned and hands flew up. “Good! That is the Whomping Willow. I suggest not going near that tree, or its branches will smash you. Trust me, this is coming from experience dealing with that blasted tree!” she smiled, noticing the fear the first years all had plastered on their faces. “Behind that tree, over the hill lives the Care of Magical Creatures professor and Gamekeeper, Hagrid. He’s a very friendly half-giant and really cares for the students here. You’ll take his class in third year.”

We began the long trek around the castle to go to the Quidditch Pitch. I realized I should probably do at least some of the talking, and since Granger didn’t know a thing about Quidditch, I spoke up. “How many of you want to play Quidditch for your House teams next year?” I asked, genuinely happy that at least half the group raised their hands.

“Excellent! Quidditch is a great way to release your anger, stress, and frustration on people, and win some House pride. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Quidditch, there are two teams of seven players each. Firstly, there are three Chasers who throw the Quaffle, a big red ball, into the opposing team’s goalposts. Then there are two Beaters who protect the Chasers and Seeker from Bludgers, nasty black balls that fly around by themselves, with short wooden bats. We’ve got the Keeper next, and he’s the one who blocks the goals. Lastly is the Seeker, which is the position I played, who looks for the Snitch, a tiny, winged golden ball that ends the match and scores one hundred and fifty points when caught. All of this is done about one hundred feet in the air on broomsticks. Sounds fun, doesn’t it?” I couldn’t help my enthusiasm; I hadn’t been able to talk about things like Quidditch in over two years.

As I looked at all of the eleven year olds, so bright and full of light, a shadow of doubt crossed over me. Was I really doing the right thing by being here at Hogwarts? I couldn’t tell, and it made me afraid. If I made one wrong move, I was done for. But as my eyes swept over the crowed, I vowed that I would show everyone I _had_ changed, that I could be compassionate, and that I got over my blood prejudices.

We stood on the hill overlooking the Quidditch Pitch, Granger and I behind the group. I knew she was remembering watching it burn down during the Battle of Hogwarts, flames so bright they were seared onto your retinas for days and weeks after.

“Can we go down to the lake?” a small Hufflepuff boy asked excitedly.

 I exchanged looks with Granger before answering, “I suppose. Just don’t bother the giant squid!” I called after them as they tore off across the grounds, screaming and squealing with glee. “After you, Granger,” I motioned mockingly.

She laughed, a bubbly, bright sound, and gallantly began strutting down the hill. Chuckling to myself, I followed in her wake, feeling much better than I had in the past two years of my life. The two of us reached the first years at the edge of the lake, all of them peering into its opaque depths to try catching a glimpse of the evasive resident giant squid.

“Come on you lot, time to go back to the castle!” Granger announced to whines of disappointment. “Do you want to get lost on Monday or not?” they immediately quit whining and meekly followed us like ducklings back to the main doors.

Once everyone was inside, we took the first years to the first floor, where the classes Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic would be taking place. Next, we trekked up to the third floor where they would have Charms. Rather than make them go all the way up the Astronomy tower, we stood at the bottom of it and explained it to them there. Since we were up on the seventh floor, we showed them where the Transfiguration classroom was and the quickest way to get there as it was miles from the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Lastly, we took them to the dungeons to show which Potions classroom would be theirs.

A few questions were asked, like if the portraits knew where everything was and if they could help. “Yes, all of the portraits can tell you where to go if you do get lost, but just make sure you don’t wake sleeping ones—they’ll send you in the wrong direction then!” Hermione advised. Eventually, we met back up with the four Prefects they had come down with, and they went on their way back to the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms.

“Well, I suppose it’s time we go see Professor McGonagall then,” Hermione said, looking at her wristwatch.

I grudgingly agreed, and we began a slow walk towards the Headmistress’s office on the seventh floor. We walked in somewhat uncomfortable silence, but I wasn’t about to be the one to break it. As we waited for one of the moving staircases to come to us, the silence became unbearable.

“What was all that about this morning, Malfoy?” Hermione broke the silence, clearly wanting to talk about it. “Why were you acting so interested in my personal life?”

 _Oh bloody hell here we go_. “I don’t want to talk about feelings right now, Granger, let alone with you,” I spat.

The witch actually looked hurt at that, and I immediately regretted being so harsh. “Granger, here’s how it is. I know you want to believe that I’ve changed and that I’m a better person, but I’m not always. Sometimes I’m a selfish prick and a complete arsehole, and you’re going to have to get over that if we’re going to make this whole living situation work. If I’m offensive to you, sorry, I just don’t know you well enough as a person. Don’t take it personally,” I explained in a softer tone. “Are we clear?” I asked. She nodded and I fell into a moody silence.

We climbed the stairs monotonously, our bodies having enough muscle memory to know which stairs were faulty and which would take us up further. I stepped over the trick step on one of the staircases with ease while she had to do a little jump to account for her short legs. That was when I realized just how much taller than her I was. I only stood a little over six feet, but she must have been something like five feet four inches because her head just barely came up to my shoulders.

Finally we reached the seventh floor, home to the entrance of Gryffindor tower, but there was not a soul in sight. I glanced through a window as we passed by it, and saw a majority of the students had taken to the grounds, throwing Quaffles and various balls around, basking in the warm afternoon sun. We turned down the corridor containing McGonagall’s office, my heavier footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

“Thanks for the advice about Ron,” she burst out suddenly. “Granted, it would have been much more useful a year or two ago, but thank you anyway.” A light blush tinted her cheeks at this admission of her previous feelings, but I simply nodded my head once to save her more embarrassment. We fell into an even more uncomfortable silence than before, the echoes of my shoes the only sounds in the corridor.

“So, whatever happened between you and Pansy?” she asked curiously. “I thought you two were going to get married, from the look of things.”

I looked at her and evenly replied, “We grew apart. Things changed, our views differed too much. She became interested in other people, so I let her go—simple as that. Our parents would have loved the match, but neither of us really wanted to get married because it wouldn’t have been a happy one for either of us. So we told our parents and have remained good friends ever since. She’s actually a really nice person once you get to know her, Granger; don’t be so dismissive of her.”

The grimace was wiped right off her face when I scolded her, and I felt a smirk tug at the corners of my lips. _Always the rule-follower, Granger_. We reached the stone gargoyle protecting the entrance to the office a minute later.

“Colin Creevey,” Hermione said quietly. The gargoyle bowed his head, allowing us through onto the moving spiral steps leading up to the door. “Just because we’ve had a weird morning, that doesn’t give you an excuse to sass and be rude to Professor McGonagall, all right?”

“Yes, fine, Granger. Whatever you say,” I said, bored already for what I was sure was simply a procedural meeting. I opened the door for her and followed her inside and shut it quietly. Taking the comfier chair in front of McGonagall’s desk, I slouched in it, prepared to just sit and listen for the whole time.

Oh, how I was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is a bit OOC for Draco and Hermione but I promise I get it together in coming chapters! I've got a nice surprise in the next chapter so I hope you like it! Reviews are very much appreciated :)


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mistake a few days ago--I posted the chapter AFTER this one first on accident, so now here's the correct chapter! Sorry for the confusion

“Either of you care for a biscuit?” Professor McGonagall held out a tin to Hermione and Malfoy. Both of them politely declined with a quiet “No, thank you.” 

“Very well. Mr. Malfoy, you will be participating as many of the things we will be discussing pertain to you directly,” she scolded. Malfoy immediately sat up straight in his chair, rearranging his features to seem mildly interested in the conversation. “Good. I heard the tour went splendid this morning with the first year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, yes? I’ll have Miss Patil and Mr. MacMillan take the Gryffindor and Slytherins before dinner so the two of you can go over your duties and how you would like to split them,” she handed Hermione a roll of parchment.

“Now, as both of you are the top of your class and Head Boy and Girl, it has come to my attention that you will need to have similar schedules in order to have more time for some of your new duties. Here is your timetable, Miss Granger. I’ve assumed you’ll continue with where you left of in your sixth year in all of your advanced classes. Mr. Malfoy, I believe you had some concerns about your classes because of your _activities_ sixth year?” McGonagall said, handing him a piece of parchment with his timetable on it.

Malfoy cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and loosely clasping his hands. “Yes I do, actually. I got my OWLs in all of my classes, but you don’t have me taking Defense Against the Dark Arts or Ancient Runes. I know past professors and I didn’t always get along, but I promise I will do better in Professor Dragoran’s class; I feel it would be an eye-opening experience for me. I want to become a Healer, so I think it’d be good to know what spells I would be trying to heal or reverse. And I’d also like to continue in Ancient Runes because it interests me and mother always said I had a knack for it,” he petitioned, a somewhat ridiculous puppy-dog look on his face.

“A Healer? It seems my preconceptions were incorrect about you, Mr. Malfoy, and for that I apologise. I’ll give you some remedial Ancient Runes work to catch you up for Advanced Ancient Runes, then. However, if I hear a single negative word about your behavior in Defense Against the Dark Arts, I’ll have you put into Muggle Studies in place of that instantly, understood?” she threatened. Malfoy nodded quickly. “Good, I’ll change that immediately,” she tapped the parchment and his schedule reflected the changes just discussed.

“As you have both noticed, there are several open periods spaced throughout each of your timetables. I’ve created a basic curriculum for a new class I want you to teach together during those times. Before you start shouting, let me explain the premise for this class,” Hermione and Malfoy snapped their mouths shut and sat back in their chairs, silently fuming.

Professor McGonagall removed her glasses and placed them on the desk. “Now, it won’t be just the two of you teaching, as that would be far too much to add to your workload and Head duties. I’ve already received confirmation from Mr. Thomas and Miss Lovegood to teach as well. The purpose of this class is to inform students about the devastation of war and how it can be avoided through diplomacy and peace. The four of you each lend unique perspectives on the War and how each of you was affected differs greatly. The main goal of the class is to show them, teach them, that unity is the only way we can fully recover from the tragedy and terrors we endured, and how to move on. I am aware of the heavy subject material, which is why the four of you will figure out a rotation schedule for whom will be teaching what days so that each class can learn from all of you. Are both of you willing to take the positions?”

Hermione answered, “Yes, of course. Although, why wouldn’t you have Harry teach it, considering everything he did for us?”

McGonagall pondered that for a moment before replying, “I didn’t choose Mr. Potter because I felt that he would handle tense situations poorly and rashly, and his celebrity would distract from the purpose of the class entirely. The poor boy deserves a bit of a break, considering how much pressure has been on his shoulders for the past seven years of his life. I’m not trying to belittle the two of you, as I know both of you have had very difficult lives the past two years, but you are rational, intelligent people, and I don’t doubt your abilities to teach your peers about this war and how another can be prevented through peace.”

Malfoy scoffed a little, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“Something funny, Mr. Malfoy?” Professor McGonagall queried.

“Oh, nothing, Professor. It’s just that by forcing our students and those of us teaching the class to relive the terrors of the War in order to teach them ‘valuable’ lessons, I feel as if that almost goes against school policy. We might as well just use a pensieve and show the class everyone’s memories and say ‘don’t do that’ to every one of the memories. It’s hypocritical in my opinion,” Malfoy answered brusquely.

Hermione opened her mouth before Professor McGonagall had a chance to respond. “Professor, I do agree with Malfoy to some lengths here. I think it’s wrong to force students to listen to how terrible of experiences just the two of us had, let alone two other student teachers and their fellow peers. If we can just make the class more discussion and hypothetical situation-based, I think that would work much better than simple lectures on how badly this War ended for all of us. All of them already know how the War went, because they were living it too, the same as us.”

Professor McGonagall studied both of her students closely, noting the fire in each set of eyes. “All right. I trust you can contact Mr. Thomas and Miss Lovegood about the change in the curriculum and write your own lesson plans throughout the whole term then?” she asked. The Heads nodded vigorously. “I must be getting too old for this job if I can’t even plan a class correctly anymore,” she chuckled.

Readjusting some papers on her desk, she leaned forward to rest her forearms on the edge of the desktop. “Before I release the two of you, I have one more item to discuss with you. It concerns Hogwarts as a whole. The castle and grounds have been restored almost fully, but we were unable to continue funding the last necessary bits of restoring work. I’ve conversed with Professor Dumbledore, and he came up with the idea of a ball with an auction and worthwhile surprise for donating to the fund to finish Hogwarts. The two of you and the Prefects would be planning it, and any fourth years and older may attend, although third years may come if an older classmate asks them. In essence, it would be like the Yule ball during the Triwizard Tournament. I think it would be a much-needed distraction from the War and the recovery process.”

The students shared a gaze, their faces contorting as if arguing in their minds. A small smile ghosted across Professor McGonagall’s face as she watched the pair; glancing over to Albus Dumbledore’s portrait, he gave her a knowing look and returned to the book he had in his lap. She heard urgent whispers but pretended not to acknowledge them.

“We’ll do it together, on one condition,” Hermione said.

“We get to pick the theme, decorations, everything, ourselves, and my family will pay as much as is needed to cover the expense of it,” Malfoy supplied, returning to his original slouching position.

“That way, any money donated can go directly to funding for Hogwarts and not back into paying off the ball,” explained Hermione.

“Very well. You may begin planning as soon as you wish, and do let the Prefects know about it and what duties they’ll have as it gets closer. I think New Years Eve works wonderfully, yes? Good. I’ll make the announcement at dinner tomorrow night. Now off you go!” Professor McGonagall shooed them out of her office.

~*~*~*~*~  
**_Hermione’s POV:_**

On a sudden impulse as we were returning to our dormitory, I asked, “Would you like to go see everyone in their dormitory with me?”

Malfoy nodded and we continued past the portrait of young Merlin. Soon the Four Founders’ portrait was upon us. “House Unity,” I stated clearly. The portrait swung outward to allow us in. I stepped in first, Malfoy right on my heels.

As I looked around the common room, a frown appeared on my face. Even though this was meant to be unifying, nearly everyone had sectioned off into their respective Houses. Well, it was more so that the Slytherins were brooding by themselves and the other three were all relatively close together, talking amiably.

“Hermione!” Parvati acknowledged me, noticing Malfoy and I standing in the entranceway. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” she hugged me tightly, and I returned the favor. Her actions seemed to propel everyone else into motion as I was smothered with hugs and “Good to see you, Hermione!” for the next five minutes.

I looked out of the corner of my eye and noticed Malfoy had drifted off to the corner with the other four Slytherins, and my happy mood deflated somewhat. I shot a pleading look at Harry, willing him to do something about the separation.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his already messy hair. “Malfoy, it’s good to see you as well. Glad to know you and Hermione haven’t killed each other yet,” he said lightly. Instantly the mood changed and the five Slytherins were slowly absorbed into the rest of our group, and I relaxed somewhat.

Eventually, we formed into a semicircle, lounging on the furniture, floor, and each other. Finding a lull in my conversation with Harry and Anthony Goldstein, I simply leaned back against the front of the chair I was sitting in front of—which contained a very comfortable-looking Michael Corner and Mandy Brocklehurst—and watched everyone else around me.

To my immediate left, Ron and Blaise were talking animatedly to Padma and Parvati about Quidditch and which team they thought was going to with the World Cup next year. Next to them, Malfoy and Neville were discussing the differences between plant-based and spell-based healing work, Hannah Abbott joining in occasionally. The three remaining girls—Susan, Pansy, and Millicent—were all squashed together on the other couch and were talking excitedly about the latest Witch Weekly. Dean, Seamus, Terry, Justin, and Ernie were playing exploding snap on the coffee table, exclaiming loudly when someone’s cards blew up in their face.

I felt a pair of eyes on me, and turned towards the fire, catching Theodore Nott eying me somewhat disturbingly. He flicked his eyes away and started a conversation with Harry once he saw me looking at him. I shook it off and continued talking with Anthony about the merits of a literature class at Hogwarts, and whether or not it would be beneficial.

More than once throughout the course of the night, I could see out of my peripheral vision both Malfoy and Nott observing me with indistinguishable emotions. I decided to worry about it later and just enjoy myself for the rest of the night. At that instant, Ron’s stomach decided to growl extremely loudly, reminding us all that we had missed dinner.

“Bugger, we missed dinner!” Ron exclaimed sorrowfully.

“Ernie and I can go down to the kitchens and get us some food,” Justin volunteered.

“That won’t be necessary,” Draco drawled, “will it, Granger?” He looked at me pointedly.

“As Heads, Malfoy and I get certain privileges. One of those privileges is our own house elf. I’ll introduce you all to her! Starry,” I called. Almost immediately a loud crack sounded and Starry appeared in her flowery dress and booties in the entranceway.

“What does Miss Hermione need?” Starry asked.

“All of us missed dinner, is there anyway you could bring us some snacks, please?” I requested.

“Oh, Starry will bring plenty of food for all to enjoy! Miss Hermione, I will return in a few minutes with your meal!” Starry declared, snapping her fingers and vanishing to the kitchens before I even had a chance to protest that it wasn’t necessary.

She returned less than five minutes later with four other house elves, all laden with what must have been the dishes for dinner tonight. For main and side dishes, there was a pot roast, shepherd’s pie, a platter of grapes, apples, strawberries, bananas, blueberries and raspberries, rolls, bowls of cheese tortellini. For desserts, Starry had gotten us treacle tart, cherry pie, and chocolate cake with a whipped chocolate frosting. Pitchers of pumpkin juice, milk, and ice water stood on the coffee table next to the sliced roast. Somehow butterbeer had been brought in as well, although I think that belonged to someone else.

“Thank you very much, Starry. Granger and I can clean up after we’re all done eating. Take the rest of the night off,” Malfoy told the little house elf. Promptly, she and her friends snapped their fingers and disappeared back to the kitchens.

“You boys do realize both Heads are here and can technically deduct points from each House for having butterbeer here, right?” I reminded them sternly.

“Granger, that’d work out just fine if the Head Boy wasn’t drinking it too,” Malfoy said, taking a swig of an opened bottle. Cheers exploded from the boys’ mouths as they all grabbed a butterbeer.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times before putting my foot down. “Fine, but no one can leave the common room until they are sober!” whines interrupted me. “I mean it!”

“Careful boys, we’ve got a wild Granger here. Got to keep an eye on that one, she’ll burn your eyes out with just one look, the feisty bugger,” Malfoy taunted. His eyes glittered in the firelight, holding my gaze as he took one last swallow to finish off his bottle.  
  
Blaise tossed him another one, and I rolled my eyes. Sitting down on the floor next to Padma, I ate my grapes one by one, imagining they were Malfoy’s eyes. Surprisingly, it made me feel much better. I noticed that both Padma and Parvati were drinking just pumpkin juice. “We don’t drink alcoholic beverages. It doesn’t sit well with us, both physically and in our beliefs. I prefer pumpkin juice to butterbeer anyway; it’s got much better flavor,” Padma smiled.

I was about to reply when Seamus shouted at me, “Come on, Hermione! Harry was just tellin’ me it only takes half a bottle for ya to get tipsy!”

“Look, I’m not about to drink in the middle of school when Professor McGonagall’s office is literally around the corner, all right? Some of us actually have morals, thank you very much!” I harrumphed, turning back to Padma and Parvati, both of whom were smiling at me proudly.

“Just let her be, mate. She does have a point though. Just don’t get slobbering drunk, all right?” Harry placated Seamus.

“Fine, fine. Who’s up for some Quidditch pong?” Seamus asked, cheers coming in response from the boys.

They took over the coffee table, extending the legs to make it taller. Ten cups appeared on each end of the table, half-full with butterbeer. Three mini replicas of the Quidditch hoops were placed in the center of the table, and a miniature Quaffle was put into Seamus’s hand. The Patil twins and I joined the other girls on the couch, snacking on fruit and cake and watching the boys make fools of themselves.

“Who wants ta play the best o’ the best first?” Seamus boasted, taking another swig of his butterbeer.

Nott stepped up to the table. “You’re on, Irish boy.” He winked in my direction nearly imperceptibly; I almost thought I imagined it.

“Some pumpkin juice for the Head Girl?” a silky smooth voice said from behind my left ear. Goosebumps erupted at the skin on my neck where his breath touched it. I turned around to face Malfoy, forgetting just how tall he was now that I was sitting down. He held the cup out to me, his expression even.

“Thanks, I guess,” cautiously I took it from him, quickly muttering a detection spell over it, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I didn’t put anything in it, Granger. I’m much more _moral_ than that,” he interrupted me. “Relax, will you? You’re killing the mood.”

Choosing not to grace him with a snarky response, I twisted back around to the girls, taking a sip of the pumpkin juice and rejoined the conversation.

I missed the grin spread across Malfoy’s face as he snapped his fingers once behind his back. The pumpkin juice tasted excellent, so I got another cup’s worth of it. I let the tension roll off my shoulders and the wizard rock music someone had turned on seep into my body. I realized I hadn’t been this relaxed, my guard down, since sixth year.

Suddenly inspired, I grabbed Padma and Parvati’s hands and said, “Come on, let’s dance!” All at once the rest of the girls joined us, so we pushed the furniture back against the walls to create more room. The boys, seeing their opportunity, defected from Quidditch pong and joined us in the middle of the common room.

I caught the glances of Harry and Ron and smiled broadly, happy they were enjoying themselves too. Extricating myself from the center of the crowd, I went over to the drinks table and poured myself another helping of pumpkin juice. “Oh, screw it,” I said, pouring half a butterbeer into it and returning to the dancing.

I was so going to regret this.

~*~*~Some time later~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

“Bloody _hell_ , Granger, can’t you stay on your own two feet for two seconds?” I said as I walked with her back to our dormitory, practically carrying her.

Granger just had to start dancing for everyone else to join in. I was so close to winning the round of Quidditch pong, but the boys itching to get something, joined the girls on the dance floor, holding their bottles and still drinking while dancing. I stood on the outskirts, watching as Granger exited and poured herself some pumpkin juice and put butterbeer in it. _Oh bloody hell that was not supposed to happen; I was controlling the level of alcohol in her pumpkin juice already, and now she’s gone and screwed it all up!_ Of course, she was the one who made the rule about not leaving until sober, but given the fact it was already way past midnight, I decided to call it a night on behalf of everyone enduring Granger’s increasingly worrying behavior on the dance floor.

“For Merlin’s sake!” I uttered as she almost fell over again. Giving up, I fluidly put her left arm around my neck, my left arm behind her knees, and picked her up.

“Whoa, mister,” Granger mumbled. Thank Merlin I had refused Potter’s offer to help her back to the dormitory.

“Have a rough night, Mr. Malfoy?” Merlin said impishly, looking at the poor state Granger was in.

“Dumbledore,” I grumbled, refusing to answer the prat. The portrait hole opened up and I stepped inside, careful to avoid hitting Granger’s head on the wall.

“Where is misterprettyface taking me?” Granger slurred her words. I walked as smoothly as possible, electing to ignore her question in case of future retribution when she woke up the next morning. I pushed her bedroom door open and gently set her on the bed. I went to stand in the doorframe, my wand in my right hand.

“Get some sleep, Granger,” I said softly, drawing her door closed quietly.

Thankfully I was smart and stopped drinking after about six or seven butterbeers, knowing that she would definitely not have reached that amount what with my controlling the amount of alcohol in her pumpkin juice, but I was just reaching a nice buzz. Having to live with the Dark Lord in my home for two years of my life made me accustomed to certain things I really shouldn’t have become accustomed to at such a young age. With carefully practiced motion, I washed my face and undressed, never looking at my left forearm. It still pained me to see it, see all the death and pain I indirectly caused by taking the Mark. I knew the moment I stepped foot in that classroom to teach snooty fourth years and innocent first years I would tell them the story of the boy who made all the wrong choices, but really didn’t have any in the first place, and who just wants to get his life back on track, to have his own life again.

For now, I was going to get some sleep because I needed all the energy I could muster to deal with the unknown entity that was a hung-over Hermione Granger.


	7. Chapter Six

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

Bright sunlight streamed through the open curtains around my bed. Squinting, I sat up slowly, holding my head and groaning in pain. Then I remembered last night.

“Malfoy!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, livid. I heard his door bang shut a few seconds before he cautiously poked his head into my room.

“Granger,” he said tentatively, clearly uncertain how to handle me.

“What did you put in my bloody drink last night?” I interrogated him, murder in my eyes.  
  
Slowly, with his hands held up in a defensive position, he entered my room, clothed only in black silk boxers and a white V-neck t-shirt. Thankfully my brain was throbbing too much for me to really focus on how little he was wearing. “It wasn’t my idea, I promise. It was just me that was controlling it, I swear,” he placated, his voice silky smooth.

I pressed my fingertips to my temples, rubbing soothing circles. “What did you put in it, Malfoy? I’m not going to lynch you,” I said, exasperated and exhausted, my anger slowly ebbing.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It was some diluted butterbeer, is all it was. Perhaps a bit of Firewhiskey towards the end of the night, but that part’s fuzzy for me as well. I was going to keep it under control, just let you have enough to relax a little bit, and then you went and bloody poured your own butterbeer into your glass and screwed the whole process up!” Malfoy got angry then.

“Why are you angry at me? I’m the one who is angry right now!” I exclaimed.

“I was trying to keep you from doing something bloody stupid is why I’m angry at you! Nott was practically lusting after you all night! I didn’t want him to try anything on you while you weren’t fully capable of your own mind and body!” he shouted, his cheeks flushed with passion.

My anger dissipated instantly. “You were worried about me?” I questioned.

“I was worried about Nott making a move on a clearly intoxicated Head Girl, but whatever makes you sleep at night, Granger,” he said dismissively. “Are you done yelling at me now? I’d like to get some work done later today.”

I exhaled slowly. “Yes, I’m done. Could you wake me up in a couple of hours so we can go over our duties together please?”

“Yes. I’ll have Starry bring you a hangover remedy for when you wake up,” he said before swiftly leaving my room.

Collapsing back onto my pillows, I quickly cast a Muffliato and let out a scream of frustration that made Crookshanks meow in protest. Feeling much better after that, I turned over and promptly fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

Once I left Granger’s room, I let my mask drop for one minute as I breathed out a sigh of relief. I had been expecting far worse than I got, but I knew she wasn’t finished with me yet. In truth, I was more worried about Theo’s sudden interest in Granger. 

The rather quiet Slytherin was tenacious at the best of times and downright unpredictable at the worst. I chalked it down to him noticing Granger had filled out a bit since our fifth year, something even I could appreciate, if only just to respect her a little more as a woman than as a girl.

Then I cursed myself for letting that whole thing about Nott slip. I wasn’t about to become her bloody bodyguard; that was Weaselbee and Boy Wonder’s job. No, I was just warning her; yes, that was it—a warning. She could look out for herself—and she would, I knew it. It was more precautionary about my distant friend’s real intentions that caused me to tell her. I didn’t know enough about his involvement with the war to trust him completely, and especially not alone with any muggle-born, including Granger.  
  
Shaking my head to clear it of these ridiculous thoughts, I massaged my temples and sat down heavily in the armchair I’d claimed as mine. I figured it was better I distract myself rather than stew over the unclear intentions of Theo and why Granger still couldn’t remember when I saved her in the Battle of Hogwarts, so I accioed my copy of Shakespeare’s _The Tempest_ and began reading.

~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ginny were having a lovers’ quarrel. Any other students that had been in the vicinity of the ginger’s fiery rage had long since fled or retreated upstairs. The pair stood across the common room from each other, one positively fuming; the other, anxious and desperate.

“Why the _bloody_ hell did I have to hear from my own _bloody_ brother, hung-over at that, about what you were doing before we got together? I thought I could trust you, Harry! I thought we told each other everything, no matter what!” Ginny shouted.

“You know how I feel about you, Ginny! Why would it matter what happened— _didn’t happen_ —before I realized how much I loved you?” Harry replied, on the defensive.

“It matters because you lied to me, Harry Potter; and I do not deal well with people who lie to me!” she threatened menacingly, gripping her wand tightly at her side.

“Ginny, please, don’t do something rash! Ron blew it all up, I swear!” Harry pleaded, moving his hand to his back pocket, his fingers wrapping around the thin stick of wood there. He decided to change tactics realizing fighting fire with fire was not working in his favor.

“It was just one kiss. That’s it. That’s all that ever happened. I never saw her again,” he stated calmly, running a hand through his hair and staring at the redhead in front of him. Confident her rage was calming, Harry treaded towards her slowly, never breaking eye contact. “I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved you, Ginny, and I never will. It’s the truth,” he reached towards her face and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a rare display of affection.

Ginny’s lip quivered, and Harry knew it was over for the moment. “Fine, but I’m not talking to you for at least a week, maybe more if Ron pisses me off again,” Ginny said firmly before stepping into Harry’s embrace.

“I love you, Ginny.”

“I know.”

The couple separated, squeezing hands before Ginny dashed up the stairs to her dormitory, leaving Harry standing alone in the common room. A sudden chill crept over him as he exited the portrait hole to return to the seventh years’ dormitory. Dismissing it as the chill of the castle in the early fall night, he trudged back to his own room, suddenly very weary.

A pair of dark eyes glittered in the dark behind a statue, watching Harry turn the corner.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

I paused at the end of a scene to check my watch, noticing it had been a couple of hours since Granger fell back asleep. Closing the book and setting it on the table, I elected to call Starry first and have the house elf wake her up instead, rather than face her wrath again.

“Starry,” I called. The little house elf appeared almost instantly.

“What does Mister Draco need?” Starry curtsied.

“Granger had a little too much to drink last night; is there anyway you can give her a hangover remedy and have her come downstairs, please?” I asked.

Starry nodded earnestly. “Starry will do as Mister Draco asks now!” she said enthusiastically before disappearing with a loud crack.  
  
I leaned back in the chair, my hands behind my head, listening for the muted crack of Starry apparating into Granger’s room and giving her the hangover remedy. Honestly, I didn’t have a clue what to expect from Granger, considering how her temperament had fluctuated so much just this morning.

Granger finally came down to the common room, dressed in an ugly scarlet sweater with the letter ‘H’ sewn into it—obviously a Weasley creation—and a pair of grey sweatpants; it was disconcerting seeing her in such casual clothing. A smile ghosted across her lips as she noticed the book I’d been reading.

“How do you like it?” she asked, tucking her feet under her on the couch, downing the rest of her hangover remedy with her nose scrunched up in disgust at the taste. Once the potion began taking effect, her face and body relaxed.  

Feeling especially pleasant due to her sorry state, I thought about it for a minute before replying. “I can understand where Prospero is coming from, but it’s rather extensive to try turning all of the king’s men against one another, even though he was exiled. Miranda’s character is too pure for me; she has to have something that dirtied her soul—all women do. Ariel is almost like a house elf, having to do all of Prospero’s bidding at the prospect of freedom. I can see why you went on that whole S.P.E.W. frenzy fourth year now,” I chuckled in remembrance.

“I also seem to recall you broke my nose third year when you punched me,” I said suddenly, desiring to see if she could remember the Battle of Hogwarts if I dredged up old memories.

“I broke your nose?” Granger repeated questioningly. “I would say sorry but I don’t regret calling you a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach and punching you. That felt good!”

“So did catching you and the rest of the D.A. with Umbridge, the toad,” I countered.

“I bet that Puking Pastille tasted great, didn’t it? And Ginny’s elbow to your stomach must’ve felt wonderful,” Granger contested, still in jest.

I took a chance, saying, “Saving you from those damned Death Eaters felt right,” my voice steady and serious. My face was completely devoid of any emotion that could give my intentions away. Stunned silence met my statement. Cautiously, I used my Legilimency to probe her mind, noting her walls were weaker than usual, but still firm enough I couldn’t get through.

“Get out of my head, Malfoy. I can feel you in there,” she said coldly. Quickly I withdrew and looked at her, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Her face was flushed with anger, but her eyes revealed pain.

“Malfoy, could you just stop telling me this event happened? I don’t remember it, and if I don’t remember it, it never happened, got it? I don’t forget things, especially not things like that. You know what I wish I could forget? Your aunt Bellatrix torturing me on the floor of the drawing room, carving the word Mudblood into my arm, screaming my throat raw, while you just stood there and watched it happen. If you were so keen on helping me out during the Battle, why didn’t you stop your aunt two days before then?” her voice rose.

She continued before I could interrupt her. “You had a choice, and you chose wrong! Dobby died, _I_ almost died because you chose not to act, you coward! Just because you say you’ve changed doesn’t mean you have!” she grabbed her wand and stood, stalking to the exit. “Don’t even think about following me, Malfoy, or I swear I will hex you into next year!”  
  
With that, the portrait hole slammed shut and I felt like an utter fool. “Bloody hell,” I muttered, kicking the coffee table to release some pent-up emotions. I resisted the urge to go after her, knowing her Gryffindor pride wouldn’t allow her to forgive me for following her when she expressly told me not to. Instead, I decided to go see Blaise, knowing he could talk some sense into me.

I rose from the chair, noticing the chill in the air for the first time, even with the roaring fire. Looking down, I realized I was still in my boxers and V-neck. Quickly accio-ing more appropriate clothing and some footwear, I dressed hurriedly, nearly tripping on my own foot while trying to get my trousers on.

Pocketing my wand, I rearranged my features and strengthened my mental walls, knowing Blaise would be able to see straight through any weakness he could find. From my knowledge, he had remained at Hogwarts while Snape was Headmaster, relishing in the new regime. He was happy to torture the first years and shoot curses at the remaining half-bloods. Blaise was the epitome of Slytherin House—cunning, ambitious, and extremely intelligent. When I wished to have a real conversation, I’d ditch Crabbe and Goyle, and discuss how to ruin any of the Gryffindor trio’s days.

Although I was known as the best shag in Hogwarts, and rightfully so, he came in at a very close second. If the Dark Lord hadn’t tainted Slytherin, the two of us would have ruled the school until we left it for good. I reached the Four Founders’ portrait and agitatedly said the password, squeezing inside before the hole had even opened up fully.  
  
I walked into the common room to find Longbottom and the Patil twins sitting on one of the couches, talking quietly. “Oi, you haven’t seen Zabini, have you?” I asked Longbottom, carefully controlling my voice.

“I think he went down to lunch a few minutes ago with Parkinson and Nott, actually,” Longbottom replied.

I turned around and briskly traversed the moving staircases down to the Great Hall, spotting my fellow seventh years sitting at the far end of the table, away from our other House members. I walked down the aisle between the wall and our table, nodding in greeting to some younger students, stopping when I reached the three of them.

“Pansy, Theo, Blaise,” I acknowledged.  
  
“Draco,” they responded.

“If the two of you don’t mind, I have a rather pressing matter to discuss with Blaise, in private,” I directed to Pansy and Theo. Blaise immediately stood up and finished the rest of his orange juice in one big gulp.

“Let’s go,” he said brusquely, brushing past me to lead the way to our usual meeting room.

We took a seemingly random pattern through the castle, going up and down flights of stairs, not exchanging a single word between us. Finally, we reached the one-armed suit of armour concealing the entrance to the room we frequented our fifth and sixth years. We met here to discuss all manner of things, ranging from girls we’d shagged to the plans the Dark Lord had for me, and how to deal with the stress of a world crumbling around us.

Today, the room looked worse for wear thanks to the toll the structure of the castle took from the battle four months prior. Blaise and I cast some repairing charms to ensure the ceiling wouldn’t fall in on us while we sat there. We settled in our respective chairs; Blaise lounged casually while I sat upright, tense.

“You pissed off Granger, didn’t you,” Blaise stated bluntly. _Damn._

“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to handle her for the rest of this week, let alone the rest of the year. It’s uncomfortable enough as it is, considering I’m an ex-Death Eater and she’s one-third of the Golden Trio. Our personalities clash, and the only time we weren’t arguing was when she was plastered last night and in McGonagall’s office—but that was more out of propriety than anything else. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do, Blaise?” the words tumbled out of my mouth in an undignified manner, but I was desperate for help.

“Does she remember when you rescued her from MacNair and Dolohov?” Blaise queried.

I shook my head. “No. I tried using Legilimency on her when she wasn’t paying attention but her Occlumency is good; almost as good as mine, dare I say it.”

Blaise stared off into the corner of the room, thinking. After a few long moments, he shifted in his chair and returned his gaze to mine.  
  
“I think you just need to treat her like a human being. Don’t argue with her about everything just because you want to fight with her; actually hold an intelligent conversation with her and she might begin to trust you. Don’t give her a reason to hold a grudge against you—“

“Too late, she’s already got at least three on me, and those are just from today,” I interrupted him.

He gave me an exasperated look, and I held my hands up in surrender. “Don’t piss her off again, then. Treat her like you’d want to be treated if you weren’t a former Death Eater trying to fix his reputation. I reckon she’s just trying to accustom herself to the new and reformed bad boy Draco Malfoy who’s actually nice occasionally. Just let her control the situation for a while until you can get a feel for how she’s feeling about you,” Blaise advised.

“I’ll do my best not to piss her off, but I can’t make any promises about the other two-thirds of the trio. If they see me playing nice with Granger, you know what they’ll do,” I reminded him.

He waved a hand dismissively. “Then it’s good we know how to handle them.”

I still didn’t feel completely at ease. “Hogwarts doesn’t feel safe, Blaise. I know it wasn’t our last two years here, but with the Dark Lord gone, it should be safe again. But I feel it in my bones; something isn’t right here.”

“Draco, you’re just remembering the War. Hogwarts is still the safest place to be, even for you. It’s probably just the traces left of Dark magic from the battle. Everything’s good, mate. Come on, let’s go play some Quidditch before dinner.”

Blaise’s words did nothing to appease my worries; an uneasy feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach, but I let it go for the moment. We exited the safe room and went to the Quidditch pitch, throwing the Quaffle around and practicing maneuvers until the sun began to set.

Perched on my broom one hundred feet in the air, I looked towards the tower that contained my room, and all of my problems with it. Sighing, I flew to the ground with Blaise and began the long trek back to the castle, fearing what I would find waiting for me in the dormitory after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how'd you like that? Blaise and Theo play bigger roles later on in the story, which is why I'm trying to introduce them now so you get a feel for how I'm characterizing them. If you feel anything was super OOC or seemed suspicious (i.e. a plot hole I missed), please let me know in a review! Thanks so much to those of you who have left kudos, too--it really means a lot to me! :)  
> ~Madi


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a brand new chapter for you all to devour! Please let me know what you think in a comment down below!

Blaise and Malfoy put their Quidditch gear away and made it back to the castle just as the last few students were trickling into the Great Hall for dinner. They slipped inside, sitting down by Theo and Pansy, the former grunting at them in greeting. The babble died down as Professor McGonagall stood and raised a hand for silence.

“Before we eat, I have an announcement to make. Under the direction of Head Boy and Head Girl, Hogwarts will be hosting a ball on New Years’ Eve to commemorate the Battle of Hogwarts and the rebuilding of the castle and grounds. Students fourth year and older may attend, but everyone is welcome to make a donation. I have an incentive planned if donations reach a certain level. A box for you to put your donations into will be placed outside the doors to the Great Hall on Monday morning. Timetables for classes will be handed out tomorrow morning at breakfast. Enjoy your meal,” Professor McGonagall said, taking her seat while the students clapped.

As food appeared on the tables, the Hall was abuzz with conversations about the possible incentive of donating. Even the Slytherin table was chattier than usual, with the younger, less-corrupted students excited about there just being a ball in Hogwarts, even though most of them wouldn’t be old enough to attend. The meal was a happy one thanks to the announcement of the ball, and Hermione was elated it was already being received so well even with so few details revealed.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

After the meal began winding down, I dismissed myself from the Gryffindor table and began the long trek up to the Heads’ dormitory. My shoes echoed in the silence of the stonewalled corridor. A feeling of uneasiness crept into my mind then, and I quickened my pace, urging the moving staircases to change faster. By the time the exit to the seventh floor corridor was available, I nearly sprinted up the flight of stairs, catching my toe on the top one and sending myself flying through the air.   
  
The only impact that came was flesh on flesh. Air whooshed out of my lungs as I landed atop another human. “Bloody _hell_ , Granger!” a familiar voice grunted.

 _Thank god it’s only Malfoy,_ I thought. He shoved me off of him and stood, not even bothering to help me up. _Or not._

“Watch yourself, Granger,” he said, casting his eyes down the corridor. Malfoy began walking, apparently expecting me to follow him like a puppy.   
  
“Why do I need to watch myself, Malfoy? Is something going to happen?” I interrogated him, catching up and stopping directly in front of him, forcing him to stop or go around me.

Malfoy exhaled and stopped no more than six inches away from me. “No. At least, I don’t think so. Hogwarts doesn’t feel safe anymore,” he whispered.

I took a sharp breath in as he shoved past me to Merlin’s portrait. I hurried after him, questions burning in my mind to ask him. “Don’t even think about it, Granger,” he said coolly. “I can practically hear the cogs turning in your head.”

“Fine. But don’t come asking me for help when you’re trapped by people wanting revenge on you for what you did during the War,” I snapped, my tone more ruthless than I was expecting. “Goodnight, Malfoy.” I stomped upstairs and slammed my door shut, illustrating how I was clearly done talking to him for the night. 

I cast quick Muffliato charm and let out a scream of frustration. Why did Draco bloody Malfoy have to be the Head Boy? Why couldn’t it have been Harry or god forbid one of the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs? Those boys, I could handle easily. It was the nebulous entity that composed Draco Malfoy that irked me to no end. One minute, he’d be all charming and witty; the next, sarcastic and cruel; and then, well read and passionate. I couldn’t make sense of any of it!

Changing into more comfortable clothing, I crawled under my duvet, propping my head up with a couple of extra pillows. Crookshanks shortly joined me under the covers, curling up in the crook of my elbow. I sighed, relishing my ginger cat’s warmth. Crookshanks and Harry would be the ones keeping me sane for the rest of the year—that’s for certain.

Unless Malfoy cleaned up his act and stopped acting like a child whenever we weren’t discussing necessary things, I wasn’t going to deal with him except when I actually had to for Head duties. Other than that, he was on his own.

Confident my resolve would hold in not helping him, I whispered, “Nox,” and went to sleep to prepare for the long day ahead tomorrow.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV_ **

Bloody Granger and her need to nose her way into everything! Couldn’t a bloke get a break from girls for once in his life? I slammed my bedroom door too, just to piss her off even though Blaise told me not to. Changing out of my regular clothes into boxers and a shirt, I got into my bed and folded my hands behind my head. Looking at the ceiling with its constellations, Draco among them, made me pensive.

I was glad Blaise decided to return to Hogwarts this year to finish out his education. Even though he fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, his reputation was annoyingly clean thanks to disappearing with his mother in her native Italy afterwards. I always thought of him as my intellectual equal, and perhaps better in some subjects; however, my prowess at Quidditch and better-known family name put me a notch above him, something he never really got over. But he remained a true and loyal friend, someone I could always trust with anything. When I first got the Dark Mark out of fear for my family’s lives, Blaise talked sense into me and gave me a path to focus on that would help save my family and keep me out of the Dark Lord’s wrath.

Still, it was disturbingly clear how much the other students didn’t want me in their midst, and especially not as their Head Boy. If only Granger could recover her bloody memories! Then everyone wouldn’t doubt Potter’s judgment about me—for which I was indebted greatly to him—but I figured if I didn’t kill Granger before the end of the term, we were even. There had to be a way to make Granger remember my rescue without using my Legilimency on her or using a pensieve to show her my memory of the attack; she’d claim it as a fake and continue on her way.

I looked at the clock and realized it was nearing one o’clock in the morning. “Bugger it all,” I grumbled, annoyed that my sleep schedule was already messed up, and classes hadn’t even started yet. “Nox,” I muttered, pulling my covers up to my chest and rolling over.

Falling into a restless sleep, the nightmares plagued me once more.

~*~*~*~*~

“The Mudblood is Head Girl, with that pretentious scumbag Malfoy as Head Boy. What do you think we should do about this, sir?” the young man queried, bowing his head.

“For now,” the other man, shrouded in darkness, replied, “we wait.”

“Yes, my lord. What shall I do in the meantime, then?” the young man asked nervously.

Silence fell upon the dark room for a moment as the dark man thought.   
  
“Continue your work with the Granger girl. I want to hear everything you hear about her mental block, and investigate it yourself, if possible. Make it so Mr. Malfoy understands his mistakes in changing sides, in accepting those filthy half bloods and Mudbloods. Give him no choice but to return to us,” the leader said menacingly, “or the Mudblood dies.”

~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, Hermione woke up at precisely seven thirty a.m. thanks to Malfoy pounding on her door.

“Get up, Granger, I’m hungry!” he whined.

“Go get breakfast by yourself then, you tosser!” Hermione grumbled, throwing her pillow at the door hard enough it made a thumping sound. “I’m getting up!” she said loudly.

“Well hurry it up then, I don’t want to walk in late to have first years running around like chickens with their heads cut off before I’ve had my breakfast!” Malfoy declared.

Hermione mocked him in a high-pitched voice, “I’m hungry, feed me or I’ll murder all of you!”

A fist hit the door separating the two of them. “I heard that, Granger! Have your arse downstairs in ten minutes or I’ll drag you down to breakfast!”

“That’s likely,” Hermione muttered to herself. Quickly she dressed in a royal blue button down with medium wash skinny jeans and booties, pinning her Head Girl badge directly over her heart; allowing herself a moment of pride at attaining the position she’d so coveted when she first began her magical education. She cast a quick charm on her hair to tame it into smoother waves and grabbed her book bag, already full with textbooks and parchment.

She walked down the stairs ten minutes and forty-three seconds later, noting with a smirk that Malfoy was sitting tensely on one of the wooden chairs at the table, jiggling his foot in agitation. He was wearing what muggles would consider somewhat business casual—a close-fitting, pale blue button down and black trousers and shoes.

His eyes flitted to Hermione as she entered his field of vision. “You’re late, Granger,” he said, tearing his eyes away from the fireplace to look at her. “You have to change, now. We are not going in there matching.”  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow, already annoyed with him for waking her up and expecting her to get ready in so little time. “Here, I’ll fix it right now.”

She pulled her wand out of her pocket and twirled it in Malfoy’s direction. Instantly his shirt changed from a pale blue color to a very faint green color. Smiling at his fuming expression, Hermione voiced sweetly, “That’s much better. Now, let’s go get some breakfast, shall we?” She turned and exited the portrait hole, expecting Malfoy to follow her out just to have the last word.

The sounds of his shoes slapping on the stone put a smirk on her face. “Nice of you to join me, Malfoy,” she called out snarkily.

“I’m not _joining_ you, Granger. You simply happen to be walking to the same place I am,” Malfoy said stoically.

She laughed then, a bright, twinkling sound that sounded like music. “Says the boy who was begging me not fifteen minutes ago to go to breakfast with him because he was too scared to go alone,” Hermione teased, her voice rising in pitch to emphasize his whining.

He opened his mouth to retort but Hermione cut in, “And don’t forget after we eat and help the first years with any questions they have about their classes, we have a meeting with the Prefects at eleven o’clock in the Prefect Lounge. We’ll be finalizing patrols and hearing any concerns about the year.”

“I do hope you won’t annoy me during the next few hours, Malfoy, or you just might find a little something extra in your food at dinner,” she taunted, her face unclear if she was just messing about with him or was being deadly serious.

Malfoy remained silent until they reached the Great Hall and he was afforded the luxury to depart from Hermione’s presence for a short time. He slid onto the bench, away from his housemates, and piled quite the assortment of food onto his plate. Somehow he managed to eat three triangles of toast with jam, two eggs over easy, seven pieces of bacon, four breakfast sausages, and two glasses of orange juice in a matter of minutes.

He turned his gaze to Hermione across the hall, eating and conversing with Harry and Ron. Hermione glanced up and caught him looking at her; the corners of her mouth twitched upward. That morning post decided to arrive at that moment, hundreds of owls flying through holes in the ceiling, dropping off packages, letters, and newspapers with a systematic chaos.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

A letter and a copy of the Daily Prophet landed neatly in my outstretched hand from my eagle owl, Archimedes. After stowing the letter, which was from my mother, I unrolled the Daily Prophet and nearly tore it in half immediately. Granger and I had made the bloody front page. A picture of the two of us when we were discussing literature from the other day took up nearly then entire page. The article read:

**Hogwarts’s Golden Girl Taming Slytherin Bad Boy?**

_By Rita Skeeter_

_It seems that Hermione Granger, aged 18, has found her next charity case. Draco Malfoy, also 18, reformed Death Eater has become the Head Boy to her Head Girl for this year at Hogwarts. The pair has been enemies since the first day they knew each other, but do we see any of that petty animosity anymore? If this photo suggests anything, it’s that Miss Granger seems to have a soft spot in her heart for fixer-uppers like Mr. Malfoy.  
_ _“It was the weirdest thing,” an anonymous student says, “they were just talking about books like regular people. I didn’t know what to think!”  
_ _“Yeah, they weren’t even yelling at each other or arguing at all! They were being nice to each other,” another student commented.  
_ _If these two are playing nice on the first day of term, whose to say there won’t be something more being talked about by the time the holidays roll around? It’s already been announced they are holding a ball on New Year’s Eve and it’s exclusively the two of them planning it. Miss Granger is known for her incredible ability to handle stubborn men (Mr. Ronald Weasley, anyone?) so it’s not surprising she’s taken to Mr. Malfoy to prove her place as “Brightest Witch of Their Age.”  
_ _Mr. Malfoy escaped an Azkaban sentence due to being only sixteen when taking the Dark Mark and entering the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and also on Harry Potter’s testimonial, supporting Draco’s innocence. With his ex-Death Eater status, it’s quite clear the boy needs saving from his past. It very well looks like Miss Granger could be the salvation he needs in more ways than one. Now that the Malfoy heir has returned to Hogwarts to finish out his education, it’s very obvious the student body is wary of his presence at Hogwarts, and as his position as Head Boy.  
_ _We’ll have to keep a close eye on the unlikely pair Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy make throughout the rest of the year. The future could bring interesting things for these two. The next update about goings-on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be every two weeks starting from today._  

Whispers grew into a roar as more and more students pulled out their copies and began reading the article. Looks flew between Granger and I; some students even had the nerve to stand and crane their necks at me until I glared them back to their seats. I knew we had to do some damage control or rumours would start spreading like Fiendfyre.

 I rose from my seat and murder on my face, gripping the newspaper tightly in my fist as I walked towards the Gryffindor table. Granger stood up and began her walk towards the middle of the hall, her own copy clutched in her hand and fury in her eyes. We stopped five feet apart in the gap between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, our eyes locked. Her hand twitched, and I knew it was show time.

“What did you tell Pansy, Malfoy?! You let her talk to that spineless gossiper Skeeter about something she has no business in! You’re still that filthy little cockroach I punched third year, you haven’t changed one bit!” Granger shouted angrily, stomping her foot for emphasis.

“Why do you think I bloody talked to Pansy? Obviously it was those Patil twins you’re so cozy with, Granger! They just love a good gossip, don’t they? You’re an insufferable know-it-all and so bloody selfish! I hope you like planning the ball on your own, you wench!” I roared back, stepping up to her so there were mere inches between our faces. Our chests heaved as we blew hot breaths into each other’s faces, glaring down at each other.

Then the tension broke as someone shouted, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The chant got louder and we got angrier. I nodded at Granger imperceptibly when the chant reached such a loud volume it began to echo. Granger pulled back her right arm and slapped me across the face, the sound echoing across the Great Hall and the chanting stopped immediately. A raised handprint red as blood covered my left cheek, but I didn’t cover it up, didn’t wince at the pain.

I held my chin high and declared murderously, “Go to hell, Granger.” I stalked out of the Great Hall, noting the stares and whispers between friends. Our job was complete.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

Needless to say, the fact we had to go to a Prefect meeting directly after breakfast didn’t help the situation at all. Thankfully, I only had to wade through a few first years’ questions about their schedules before I could break away from them and do my job. I nearly ran up to the fifth floor, opening the door with more force than intending and making everyone turn and look at me.

Sitting at the far end of the meeting room was Malfoy, my handprint still very visible on his cheek. Of course, the only open seat in the room was the one next to him. Clenching my fist tighter, I stalked over to it. I sat down and scooted it away from him loudly, making it glaringly obvious I was still angry with him.

“All right, let’s get started with the meeting,” I said steadily, eyeing a few of the prefects to judge their reactions to the tension in the room. “We’ll meet in two weeks after dinner to discuss any ideas you come up with for the ball. A piece of parchment is going around now with your assigned patrols. If any of you have any concerns, please voice them now.”

“I’ve got one,” Justin Flinch-Fletchly called from the opposite end of the room. I gestured with my hand, letting him know I was listening. “How are we supposed to know you and Malfoy won’t be at each others’ throats when you’re on patrol?”

Malfoy clenched his jaw in my peripheral vision. “I can assure you it won’t be an issue, Justin,” I said smoothly, suppressing an urge to glance at Malfoy. “Any other questions that pertain to your patrols?”

My question was met with stony silence. I exhaled and dropped all pretense of stoic professionalism. “I can tell you’re all thinking about something. Someone just spit it out already,” I snapped.

“Are you shagging each other?” an unidentifiable voice asked.

“10 points from Hufflepuff,” Malfoy drawled. “You lot are thick, aren’t you? Rita Skeeter is a rubbish journalist and the only honest thing that foul woman has ever written is that Potter’s a tosser. Now, if you are done nosing into Granger and I’s business, I think we’re finished here.” The group of Prefects stared back at them, completely mute. “All of you are free to leave, unless you’ve got legitimate matters to discuss with Granger or I.”

The sound of chairs scooting back filled the room as every single Prefect hurried out of the room as fast as they possibly could. Finally, I released a breath I wasn’t aware I was holding and looked over at Malfoy. He continued looking straight ahead as he said, “Well, Granger. Looks like we’ve got a friend of the press in our midst.”

I cast a Muffliato in the room and cracked a tentative smile. “I’m sure our fight in the middle of the Great Hall will have negated any rumours by now,” I said, pumping as much fake enthusiasm into my voice as I could muster, trying to lift his moody spirits.

“Let’s hope so, Granger, or we’re going to have a bloody fun next three months together,” he said darkly, rising from his seat and walking out of the meeting room.

I sighed exasperatedly and followed him out of the room back to the dormitory.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hamlet belongs to William Shakespeare, and the lovely Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling.

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

Somehow Malfoy managed to reach the dormitory way before I did, considering I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him as I went up the two flights of stairs closest to the entrance of the dormitory. Just as I was about to enter, Harry came around the corner looking more upset than he had been at breakfast. 

“Hey, ‘Mione. Can we talk?” Harry inquired, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Of course. Is everything okay with Ginny?” I asked worriedly.

“That’s one of things I want to talk to you about. Let’s go down to our tree on the grounds and talk about it,” Harry said. I smiled and nodded, looping my arm through his as we walked down in comfortable silence.

Times like these were why I enjoyed having Harry so much. We were close like brother and sister and that made him extremely dear to me. We talked about all manner of things when it was just the two of us hunting Horcruxes after Ron left, and it strengthened our bond even more. When Harry had told me Ron was interested in me romantically, I was ecstatic. But as we tried to work out our feelings for each other, it grew awkward between us as he expected different things from me than I did from him. About a month after the Battle of Hogwarts—when we’d kissed for the first time—I broke things off with Ron. He just didn’t challenge me enough intellectually and didn’t have the same values and morals I did, causing us to fight a lot.

After we would have a fight, I’d go to Ginny for comfort while he’d go to Harry. Ginny talked some sense into me after our biggest one to date, telling me it was okay if I didn’t want to be with Ron anymore—I didn’t deserve him anyway. She would forgive me because he was a prat who was too thick to understand how girls thought. It ended surprisingly well, most likely due to Ron keeping his temper in check and talking it out calmly with me. I left the Burrow after that and returned home, figuring it would be too uncomfortable for me to stay there now I had no real reason to.

I owled Harry at least three times a week giving him updates on how the search for my parents in Australia was going and Kingsley’s progress on just how exactly he’d have to reverse the Obliviate I’d performed on them. When Kingsley told me he’d found them, I couldn’t wait to see them again, but I was also extremely nervous as to how they’d receive me once they learned what I’d done to protect them. I voiced my concerns to Harry over floo and he apparated to see me immediately.

With Harry, I was able to let my guard down completely, leaving myself bare. I couldn’t hide anything from him for too long before he’d pick up on it and question me about it, helping me work through it or telling me to forget about it. That’s why talks like we were about to have were such integral parts of our lives—we set each other straight and didn’t judge too harshly. We accepted each other for who we were and our actions were treated with equal respect as our feelings were.

Harry jolted me out of my reverie with a slight nudge of his shoulder. We’d reached our tree, an old, wizened willow with low branches wide enough to sit on comfortably, on the hill overlooking the Quidditch Pitch. We brushed aside the curtain of outer leaves to get to the twisted framework of branches. He boosted me up and I hooked my arm around a branch, pulling myself up onto the lowest one and sitting down. I pulled out my wand and levitated Harry up to my level, making sure he’d grabbed onto a branch before I ended the spell.

“Ginny and I had a huge fight the other night in the Gryffindor common room. Ron was still hung over when he went over there and he told Ginny about my so-called ‘activities’ the summer before sixth year. So when I went over there to see her, she blew up at me and basically broke up with me because of her misinterpretation of Ron’s wrong information,” Harry said blithely. “I explained it to her and she calmed down some, but she still won’t talk to me for at least a week. She knows how much I love her and that I didn’t know that yet that summer and I was feeling reckless. The only thing that ever happened was I kissed the waitress at the café I frequented.”  
  
I gave his arm a little squeeze of sympathy. “She’s just worried that you’ll find someone more worthy of the Boy Who Lived’s attention. It’s a common feeling that girls and boys have when they’ve been in a relationship for so long. It’ll pass soon Harry. She knows how you feel and I know she still loves you. She just needs some time to process that it wasn’t always her that you had a crush on. I know she hasn’t forgotten about Cho Chang from fifth year and how practically drooled whenever you saw her,” I replied, smiling and giving him a playful shove.

“Yeah, I definitely do not miss that kissing though. That was just a bad kiss in general for both of us,” Harry chuckled.

“I really think she’s the one though, ‘Mione. When I think about the future, I see Ginny and I with three kids and a house. I love her so much, and I don’t want anything to happen to her. I don’t think Hogwarts is safe. Something feels off about the castle, and I don’t know why. I felt it the moment we stepped off the train. ‘Mione, you need to be extra careful when you or the other Prefects are doing patrols at night,” he expressed soberly.

“Speaking of, are things with Malfoy any better than they were this morning? You slapped him pretty hard over a ridiculous article by Rita Skeeter,” he said.

 I reached up and pulled a leaf off a hanging tendril and let my hair fall like a curtain between us, pretending to inspect it in avoidance of Harry’s question. A hand entered my field of vision and removed the leaf. I turned to face Harry; he was holding the leaf in his hand, the expression on his face that of a parent chastising a child for playing with something they weren’t supposed to. He raised an eyebrow at me and I folded.

“Not really, no. It just adds stress to us that someone is talking to the press about us. We were just having a civil conversation about classic literature and someone just has to go and talk to Rita Skeeter, of all people! I’ll turn her into a beetle and keep her in a jar again the next time she writes something that presumptuous about any of us!” my arms flailed for emphasis. Harry gave me a look of incredulity and bewilderment, the leaf falling from his grasp.  
  
I sighed and explained, “Malfoy is actually well-read on muggle authors like Shakespeare and Jane Austen. We were discussing it on our way down to breakfast the other day and I suppose the other students thought it was blasphemy that we were having a civil argument over muggle things.”

He nodded in understanding then and rested his chin in his hands, thinking.

“I just don’t know how we’re going to be able to do this, Harry. He’s so back and forth with how he treats me that I just can’t make sense of it. I want to help him, but I just don’t know how. And he keeps bringing up something that happened in the Battle of Hogwarts that I don’t remember but he insists it happens,” I rambled on.

“Wait, what? What happened after you and Ron got separated?” Harry asked.

I thought about it and said, “I don’t remember exactly. It’s all kind of fuzzy. I just remember running around lots of corridors because I got lost until I finally made it back to the battle and found the two of you looking for me.”

He pursed his lips, his forehead creased in concentration. “Are you sure you can’t remember anything more specific than that, Hermione?”

I wracked my memories for the third time in a month and came up with nothing. “No, I can’t. After the staircase collapsed, it’s all rather blurry until I meet up with Ron and you again.”

Harry frowned. “How good is your Occlumency?”

“Quite good. Excellent, I suppose. Why?” I asked, curious where Harry was taking this.

“I think Malfoy might be onto something, believe it or not,” he said. “Before you discount me, hear me out. If you can remember every other part of the battle with minute detail, except for the part he’s claiming to have happened, then something must have happened with your mental blocks when we were all separated. If there’s a memory locked inside you somewhere that holds valuable information, I think it’s in your best interests to try and figure out what it is. That means, no arguing with Malfoy for no good reason, all right? I’d like to think he’s changed from his old ways, given that I did give a testimony for him at his trial.”

“So what do you want me to do exactly? Let him mess with my memories? That’s likely to happen! I’d hex his face off before I’d let him in my head!” I exclaimed.

“’Mione, for being the brightest witch I know, you’re missing the obvious,” Harry laughed. “Just play nice with him, that’s all I’m asking. I’d rather not have to Sectumsempra him again because he hurt you.”

I shoved him harder this time, almost pushing him off the branch and causing his arms to windmill for balance.

“Don’t make jokes like that again, Harry! I was so worried you’d actually killed him before Snape got there! I don’t think you should’ve kept that book anyway—you were ahead of me in class with that stupid thing!” I responded, feeling much lighter thanks to Harry’s sound advice.

“Okay, okay, I won’t. Just as long as you agree to do your best to work things out with Malfoy, okay?” Harry said.

“Okay,” I conceded, “I’ll be nice to Malfoy if I have to. But if he’s rude to me first, my hands are tied and how I react is not completely my fault.”

He chuckled and put an arm around my shoulders. “I’ve missed you, Hermione. I’m glad that you’re back. It just didn’t seem right without you there at the Burrow. Ron’s glad you’re okay too, you know.”

I gazed out over the Quidditch Pitch blazing in golden light and said, “I know.”

We sat there in silence for a while, just looking out across the grounds, watching how the colors morphed and faded as the sun set with each passing minute. “Come on, we should probably go back now, dinner’s going to start soon,” I announced.

Carefully, we climbed down onto lower branches and jumped down to the ground, our knees taking the brunt of the impact. We walked back to the castle together, feeling much better about the rest of the term than we had earlier. The darkness soon swallowed up a dark shape following us from a distance.

~*~*~*~*~

Dinner went smoothly, with only a few cursory glances directed towards Malfoy and I over the course of the meal. The main topic of discussion was classes the next morning and how everyone was excited to meet the new professors and to actually be learning real information again. It made me very happy that the student body wanted to learn so badly considering how tough the War had been on all of us—on all of them.

Malfoy and I managed to avoid each other for the entire night, not even encountering each other in the dormitory. After taking a shower, I sat on my window seat in my sleep shorts and old t-shirt, intent on finishing _Hamlet_. I was in the middle of the last scene when I realized I’d forgotten to put out food for Crookshanks all day.

“Starry,” I called out quietly. Thankfully, the loud crack usually accompanying house elf apparition was somewhat subdued.

“What does Miss Hermione need?” Starry curtsied.

“I forgot to put food out for Crookshanks today. Is there anyway you could get him a mouse or something, please?” I requested.

“Starry checked in earlier and noticed Miss Hermione had not given the cat food, so Starry gave him food. But Starry will give Crookshanks a mouse tomorrow for breakfast!” Starry replied.

“Excellent, thank you, Starry,” I said gratefully. Starry curtsied once more before disapparating.

Returning to _Hamlet_ , I was excitedly reading the very last scene when a loud shout broke my concentration. I paused in the middle of a line; hearing nothing further, I continued reading. The ending was so abrupt and rather preposterous I almost began re-reading it to make sure I understood it when another yell sounded from across the hall. I put the book down on the window seat cushion, grabbing my wand in the process and quickly ran across my room and threw my door open, waiting.

Another strangled shout pierced the silence from Malfoy’s room. Without hesitation, I barged in and saw him twitching about in his bed, the sheets twisted so tightly around him he couldn’t move very well. His eyelids were fluttering rapidly, like he was reliving something very painful. I tiptoed my way over to the side of the bed, attempting to think of the best way to wake him up without getting hexed.

I settled on shaking his shoulder and saying his name. “Malfoy! Malfoy, wake up!” I said, keeping my body as far away as possible. He didn’t respond, just kept muttering things and squeezing his eyes closed tighter. “Draco Malfoy, wake up!” I shook him fiercely.

I released my grip on his shoulder as his eyes flew open, putting my hands up in the air. “What the bloody hell are you doing in my room, Granger? Get the hell out!” he shouted, his voice husky from sleep and laced with anger.

“You were shouting in your sleep so I came to investigate. Were you having a nightmare?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“I don’t want to bloody talk about it with you, Granger! It’s none of your concern if I have a bad dream!” he spat.

Slightly offended, I stomped to the doorway before turning around and saying, “Just because I fought on a different side than you doesn’t mean I didn’t see and endure terrible things too, you know. I was just trying to help!”

Malfoy sat up and retorted, “Well stop trying to bloody help, I don’t want it from you!”

“You weren’t saying that the other day, _Malfoy_! Obviously you came back here for a reason and if that was to retrieve a lost memory from my brain or for some other reason, but either way it’s in your best interest to get over yourself and accept the fact you aren’t on top anymore!” I replied viciously.

We stared at each other in tension-filled silence, chests heaving from yelling.

“Dumbledore chose us for a reason so you better stop acting so stuck up if you want me to help you,” I said before stepping out of the room and closing his door, leaving him to mull over what I’d just said.

I was afraid I’d gone too far, but a small part of me really wished it worked and he’d finally stop acting like a stuck-up prat all the time. I returned to the warmth of my bed and fell into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of Harry & Hermione's sibling-esque friendship? The fight between Draco & Hermione? Please let me know as comments give me inspiration to continue writing!  
> ~Madi


	10. Chapter Nine

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

I woke up at seven o’clock, feeling more worn out than I had when I went to sleep. I padded lightly to the bathroom and started the shower. Grabbing a green towel and setting it on the rack next to the shower, I stripped down and stepped into the steaming shower, welcoming the prickling heat that woke me up. 

After about fifteen minutes, I turned the water off and got out, drying my hair and body off with the towel before wrapping it around my waist. Just as I was about to start my hair routine, a polite knock sounded on the door.   
  
“What do you want, Granger?” I sighed.

“I need to use the loo,” her muffled voice came through the door.

I put down the comb I’d been holding on the counter next to my sink and opened the door, allowing her in. She muttered a “Thanks,” before closing the door behind me. The temperature in the hallway was much cooler than in the bathroom, causing goosebumps to erupt on my still-damp skin. Rather than freeze in just my towel, I returned to my bedroom and got out my school uniform; slim-fitting black slacks, a white button-down shirt, green and silver Slytherin tie, black socks and shoes, grey sweater with green trim, and finally my Slytherin robes, my Head Boy badge pinned over my heart.

The sink turned off and I reentered the hallway, patiently waiting for Granger to exit so I could finish my hair. She opened the door and practically fled the loo, keeping her head down as she closed her bedroom door behind her swiftly. I shook off her erratic behavior as nerves for the first day of classes, and walked over to my sink. With great care I combed my hair back just enough to make it look professional, yet still messy enough to make girls urge to mess it up further. I smirked at myself in the mirror, suddenly feeling very confident about my last, first day of school, ever. I put my hair products away in the cabinet and went back into my bedroom to retrieve the books I’d need for classes today.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

Surprisingly, taking Harry’s advice had been relatively easy. He wasn’t being an arse to me so I didn’t have to be one back to him. It was actually kind of nice, for once. Although, I was nervous how the first day of classes would go considering we had every class together now since he was taking Defence Against the Dark Arts.

I was still wary of his badgering me about the memory of the Battle of Hogwarts, but if he didn’t bring it up, I wouldn’t either. I figured I would just let things develop at a slow pace and not push anything. It was clear from last night he wasn’t willing to accept my help yet; even though I could see he desperately needed it. What I refrained from telling him last night was that I’d been having nightmares too. Almost every night I watched as Fred was killed right before my very eyes; as Lavender Brown was mauled by Fenrir Greyback; as countless schoolmates of ours were flung aside by Death Eaters, Acromantulas, and Giants alike in the frenzy of battle. I watched as Hagrid carried Harry in his arms, limp as a ragdoll, believing he was dead and that Voldemort had won.

I could only imagine the nightmares Malfoy was experiencing. Crookshanks meowed, and that shook me out of my memories into the present day. Today was the first day of my last year at Hogwarts, and I was Head Girl. I had a job to do, and I would do it well, even if it meant hiding any anger I felt towards Malfoy behind a mask of deceptive calm and kindness.

Sitting in the chair in front of my vanity, I deftly applied some light mascara and minimal concealer to hide the already forming bags under my eyes—no thanks to the constant nightmares and war flashbacks whenever I’d fall asleep. Wiping the excess off with a tissue, I began working on my hair. Five minutes in, I gave up and straightened it with a quick spell and fishtail braided it, opting for simplicity today. Satisfied with how it looked, I threw on my uniform and grabbed my book bag, giving Crookshanks one last pet before leaving my room.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

Twenty minutes later found me sitting in my armchair by the fire, waiting for Granger to finish getting ready. Staring into the fireplace, I couldn’t get my mind off of last night.

 The nightmare I’d been having was different than usual. Instead of me being tortured by the Dark Lord, I watched Granger being tortured by my father on the floor of the drawing room in the manor, almost exactly like she’d been tortured by Aunt Bellatrix about the Gringotts break-in. Except it was just me in the room with her, my mother nowhere to be found, and we seemed a few years older than we were now. He was alternating between Cruciatus curses and physical abuse, much like he did to me as a child when I did something wrong.

I’d had the strongest desire to help her but I seemed to have been body bound, forced to watch helplessly. Lucius’s words were too quiet for me to hear what he was interrogating her about, but her muttered cries and pleas for forgiveness were almost unbearable. After giving him an unsatisfactory answer, he’d thrown another vicious Cruciatus at her, her body writhing on the floor, blood from numerous small cuts oozing and pooling underneath her. Rage filled my veins as I watched, and just as her screams reached a peak, the real Granger woke me up.   
  
The sudden change in her appearance had freaked me out, and I immediately shut down, refusing to tell her I’d just had a dream about her, one in which she was tortured by my father and I sat by and watched, just like last year. It would’ve been too big a blow for her to handle so soon in the year. So, naturally, I lay awake for the next hour, mulling over what the hell I’d just dreamed about and whether or not it was a premonition or just a reimagined nightmare. Mother always said I’d had some Seer in me, but it wasn’t prominent enough for it to be of real concern, so I didn’t tell anyone about it. It only became a concern to me when a few of my dreams as a child and preteen came true sooner or later. I couldn’t tell if this nightmare was a vision, but if it was, then I’d try my damndest to prevent it from happening.

I tore my gaze away from the fire as I heard her feet on the steps, expecting the usual frumpy, modest school uniform she’d been wearing since we first started here. My eyes were not ready for the change they saw.

Her skirt actually revealed a small portion of leg above the knee and her sweater was formfitting enough to make it look like she had some womanly curves underneath it. Her Gryffindor robes pulled closely around her form—she must have gotten them fitted for her for once. Needless to say, she actually looked like a woman in charge, and that was something I could appreciate. The other part of my brain was telling me she was still the insufferable know-it-all muggleborn who beat me in every single class and I shouldn’t trust this deceivingly appealing image of her. Granger had come into her own over the past couple of years, and I’d been a blind bat to it until now. I quickly realized I’d been staring and coughed, looking anywhere but her.

She adjusted her grip on her book bag awkwardly and moved towards the portrait hole. “Come on, Malfoy. We’ve got Gryffindor and Slytherin first years to take down to Herbology after breakfast,” she intoned politely.

“How long do we have to do that for?” I whined, somewhat daunted with the task of shepherding forty, not twenty, first years down to the greenhouses.

“It’s only for the first two weeks, no need to get your pants in a twist. We’ll just have to rush to Potions afterwards,” she replied.

Drawing a blank on a witty response, I closed my mouth and picked up my school bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

I followed her out, confused with her sudden change in attitude. I figured Potter talked her into playing nice with me, which made sense. We walked down to breakfast in somewhat amiable silence. I split off when we entered the Great Hall to sit by Blaise, Pansy, Millicent, and Theo. Setting my bag down on the bench next to me, I pulled out my class schedule one last time to look over it again.

_M: Potions, Potions, [open*], Lunch, [open*], Defense, Dinner, Head Duties._

_T: Adv. Runes, Charms, Charms, Lunch, [open*], Adv. Arithmancy, Dinner._

_W: Adv. Transfiguration, History, Herbology, Lunch, [open*], [open], Dinner, Prefect Meeting._

_R: Adv. Runes, Charms, Potions, Lunch, Adv. Arithmancy, Defense, Dinner, Astronomy._

_F: Adv. Transfiguration, History, [open], Lunch, Herbology, Herbology, Dinner._

_*Will be teaching War and Peace to fourth and fifth years with Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Dean Thomas._

I stuffed it back into an outer pocket on my bag and began filling my plate, occasionally glancing across the hall to look at Granger, who was in an animated conversation with Potter and Weasley, gesturing wildly with her hands. For some reason, her new and improved attitude made me want to talk to her more, but I didn’t know why. Or, perhaps it was just my bad memories involving her were being replaced with much better, brighter ones. But, if we were ever going to get along fully, she needed to get her memory back from the Battle of Hogwarts; that much was certain to me. She had to know why I’d chosen to save the girl I’d hated with such passion for seven years, why I didn’t even know my true reasons for doing it myself.

Realizing I’d been staring at her for the past few minutes, I returned my attention to my breakfast, finishing the rest of my eggs in two large bites. Double Potions was going to be bloody unbearable if Professor Imohera turned out to be awful. I glanced over at Granger again to see her standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder, frantically motioning the first year Gryffindors towards the entrance. I checked my watch and realized we were almost going to be late; I followed her lead and ushered all of the Slytherin first years towards the door as she herded the Gryffindor bunch towards us.   
  
“Keep up, you lot! No wandering off after Herbology, either! Professor Sprout’s assistant Mr. Longbottom will be escorting you to Defense Against the Dark Arts straight after class ends!” Granger reminded them loudly.

Groans came from the entire group. “Oi, do you want House points taken away or not?” I said testily, not in the mood to deal with rowdy first years. Their grumbles quieted immediately. “Thought so.”

The rest of the short walk was subdued, but the first years got more excited as they neared the greenhouses. Once we were certain Longbottom had them all, we turned around and quickly made our way back to the castle and down to the dungeons for Double Potions.

~*~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

The sounds of our shoes slapping the floor echoed off the walls as we easily navigated the twists and turns of the dimly lit dungeon passageways. There was an electric feel in the air, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I sneaked a glance at the man striding along next to me, uncaring that I thought he had an attractive physique—it was common knowledge many of the older girls pined after him during fifth and sixth year.

Puberty and years of Quidditch had treated Malfoy well; that was for sure. His clothes fit him extremely well, something I’d have been ashamed to admit to three years ago. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline definitely weren’t bad to look at, either. Even with the bulkiness of his robes, I could tell his shoulders had broadened out since sixth year, and he’d gotten even taller, now standing almost a full foot taller than me. The trademark white-blond hair was carefully crafted to look just messy enough; I’d have to take his products from him some time to see how he dealt without them.

“Enjoying the view, Granger?” the subject of my perusal smirked at me.

“Shove off, Malfoy, you did the same to me earlier!” I replied, recalling the way he’d appraised me in the common room before we left for breakfast. It’d made me feel slightly uncomfortable, but also somewhat validated in spending the money on properly fitting new robes for school this past August. I felt more confident when he’d just stared at me, clearly expecting my robes to be like they’d been in fifth and sixth year.

We fell into an uncomfortable silence then, suddenly extremely aware of our close proximity. The Potions classroom could not have appeared any sooner. We slipped inside just in the nick of time to join the small crowd of students waiting for Professor Imohera to make his first appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! I know it was short but mainly set up for the Potions lesson that happens next! Comments keep me writing so please leave one! :) I should have the next chapter up in a few days!  
> ~Madi


	11. Chapter Ten

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

The eighteen of us continuing on in Advanced Potions—Millicent, Pansy, and Neville having dropped the course—milled about, unsure how Professor Imohera would want us to sit. A loud door slam made us all jump and we turned towards the entrance to the Potion professor’s office.  
  
A tall, broad-shouldered man with tanned skin, dark hair and strikingly blue eyes stood in front of the table at the head of the class. His robes were a deep plum color and looked extremely well made from my view towards the back of the classroom.  
  
He beckoned us forward with a bright smile. We shuffled forward, still standing in a giant clump between tables. “Hello, everyone. My name is Isaac Imohera, and I’m your new Potions professor. Now, I’m not from around these parts, as you can probably tell from my accent,” he said, his heavy Italian accent now apparent. 

“I’m originally from Scotland, but my family moved to Italy when I was a baby, and I’ve been there ever since, working with some of the best potioneers in the world. This past July I was approached by Headmistress McGonagall to teach potions to teenagers at this fine institution,” he casually sat on the tabletop, swinging his legs back and forth like a child. “I agreed immediately because it’s always been a dream of mine to share my knowledge with other people. It seems that today, you are those people.”

Professor Imohera jumped down from the table and turned around, his robes flaring out majestically. He flicked his wand at the chalkboard, and names began appearing in white chalk, written in two columns. “I’ve assigned you partners based on your previous achievements in this class, and as per the Headmistress’s request, everyone is paired with someone from a different House than their own. These partner-ings are non-negotiable except on the terms that they are physically trying to kill you.”

This statement made a few of my peers and I snicker at the absurdity of the idea. I could tell I was going to enjoy having him as a professor already. However, as I read the list of pairs looking for my name, my happiness deflated immediately. I was not going to enjoy having Malfoy as my partner for the whole year, considering how much time I was already forced to spend with him, not to mention living with him. I continued looking down the list to see whom Harry and Ron would end up with. Harry got paired with Anthony Goldstein, probably due to his astronomically good sixth year thanks to Snape’s book, and Ron got Susan Bones, who, ironically, were the only gingers in the class.

Quickly, we filtered out into our pairs, some more slowly than others, claiming benches by throwing our bags at the stools. “Now that that’s settled, here’s the deal. All of you are here for a reason, whether that be for Auror training, Healer training, or you just love or excel at Potions, and I’m here to make sure you can do your jobs well come next year. Professor McGonagall wishes that I do my best to prepare you for the future, and I’m hoping to do just that,” Professor Imohera continued after we’d all settled in.

“Because we only meet once a week for double the usual time and once otherwise, this class will be extremely streamlined and focus on major potions that have been used as both defensive and offensive ploys in wars past. We’re going to begin with the topic most teenagers enjoy getting messed up with—love,” he said, grinning. “I do believe Professor Slughorn taught you a little about the strongest love potion known to wizards to this day, but the name of it seems to have slipped my mind. Anyone remember what it is?”

My hand shot up into the air immediately, just like in first year. He pointed at me and said questioningly, “Miss…?” 

“Granger, sir,” I supplied. “The strongest love potion in the world is said to be Amortentia. It smells differently to each person according to what attracts them.” 

“Very good, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor,” he said approvingly. He swished his wand and a cupboard opened up to reveal our cauldrons, which were now floating towards us. “Today, you will begin brewing your own batches of Amortentia for use by the Ministry and St. Mungos. Throughout this process, you will note every minute detail about your potion, and why it may be stronger or weaker than a typical batch like the one I’ve got stored for comparison. You and your partner will be sharing a cauldron, so if it blows up,” at this, we all gave pointed looks at Seamus, “you can start over with your partner’s cauldron. Savvy?” 

We all nodded vigorously, excited to start brewing something more advanced. “Excellent. Your time starts now,” he said with a flourish. The rest of my classmates scrambled towards the cabinet containing our cauldrons, but Malfoy and I went straight to the ingredients shelves instead.

“Don’t forget the Ashwinder eggs,” I called over my shoulder as I returned to our bench, carefully juggling all of the ingredients I’d managed to fit in my arms. I set them all down in a group towards the front of the tabletop and then went to grab my cauldron now that the rest of the class were going to the ingredients shelves. I lugged my pewter cauldron over to our table, only to look up and see Malfoy with a look of disgust on his face. “What now, Malfoy?” I asked, annoyed.

“That won’t do. We’ll use my cauldron. It’s much better suited for complicated potions like this,” he said arrogantly, pulling my cauldron out of my arms and placing it back on the shelf. I watched as he grabbed a very similar looking cauldron from the bottom shelf and sauntered back over to me, setting it on the table with a soft thump.  
  
“What’s so special about this, is it a gold cauldron that you painted black to fit in?” I antagonized him, unsure why I was being so rude to him today. 

“It’s not gold, Granger. That’s ridiculous. It’s bronze,” he said straight-faced. “Come on, let’s get this bloody love potion started.” Malfoy opened up his book to the correct page, lit the fire underneath the cauldron, and began dropping things into the cauldron. He looked over at me and said, “Are you going to help or not, Granger?” 

Grudgingly, I opened up my book and began the prep work for the next few steps, handing the ingredients off to Malfoy exactly when he needed them. Surprisingly, we actually got into a fairly regular rhythm and barely exchanged more than ten words when we reached the stage to let it simmer for twenty minutes. 

At some point during the class, we’d both oriented ourselves sideways so one of our elbows could rest on the table while still having the ability to hand things off and pour them into the cauldron. Now that we were done brewing for the moment, I became very aware of the close proximity we shared, and the effect the heady fumes the partially brewed Amortentia had, even with the lid on it. I glanced over at him, made eye contact, and immediately looked away, feeling a blush tinge my cheeks.

I didn’t understand why I was acting like an immature schoolgirl around him now that the potion was closer to completion. I’d managed to deal with him just fine for the past forty minutes, so I couldn’t quite understand what was happening now. Sneaking a glance at him through a curtain of hair, I noticed he looked more nervous than usual as well. Perhaps that was just the fact he was still trying to adjust to this new life position he held and how he was supposed to handle it. Glancing around the classroom, I noticed that those who were reaching the same stage as us were also becoming more self-aware of their actions with their classmates. Looking towards Professor Imohera lounging in his chair behind the front table, I noted his serene expression, his eyes closed in complete tranquility.

A loud bang made me jump. Almost simultaneously, the entire class turned to look at Seamus and Ernie. Foul black smoke bloomed from their cauldron, black soot covering both of their faces, both of who had shocked expressions etched on them. The rest of us burst out laughing at Seamus’s horrible luck with anything, and Ernie’s poor luck with being his partner for the rest of the term. 

 

Professor Imohera swiftly cleaned up the mess with his wand and remarked, “The Headmistress warned me about your, what was it she said? Your ‘proclivity for pyrotechnics?’ I thought she was pulling one over on the new professor, but I guess not. You really do have the worst luck, don’t you, Mr. Finnigan?”

Seamus chuckled dismally, “Yeah, I do.” An approving chorus of chuckles and giggles filled the room.

“Well, you are welcome to start again with Mr. Macmillan’s cauldron if you are willing to come back over part of lunch to finish it,” Professor Imohera offered.

“Fine by me. I’d like to pass this class,” Ernie said. Seamus nodded in affirmation, and Ernie’s cauldron was retrieved, along with a new batch of ingredients.

I looked at the clock then, noticing it had been almost twenty minutes already. Subconsciously, I hit Malfoy on the arm and exclaimed, “Stir the potion, Malfoy!”

“Ouch! That bloody hurt, Granger!” he said as he opened the lid on the cauldron and began stirring the potion clockwise. “How long do I have to do this for?”

I peered at the instructions in my book. “Precisely two minutes and forty-five seconds. Don’t worry, I’ve already began counting,” I replied, silently thanking Merlin I’d looked at the clock right as he started stirring. Slowly the Amortentia began turning a lighter and lighter shade of blue until it hit mother-of-pearl and became opalescent. “Stop stirring in five,” I counted down, “four, three, two, one.”

Quickly, he removed the ladle and I threw in a pinch of crushed Ashwinder eggs and tapped my wand on the edge of the cauldron. Almost instantly, spirals of steam rose from the surface of the potion. Before either of us could breathe in more of the intoxicating potion, Malfoy re-covered it, and the heady feeling immediately evaporated from my body.

“Nice work, Malfoy,” I said, genuinely appreciative of his efforts in creating a good batch of Amortentia.

“You too, Granger,” he murmured.

Even with the lid on, the effects of the evaporated Amortentia were still strong enough for me to faintly smell things I didn’t want to smell. I inhaled too deeply on my next breath and caught a whiff of old books, fresh parchment, and something spicy-like I couldn’t place. However, I couldn’t lie to myself—the combination smelled positively marvelous and enticing.

Glancing over at Malfoy, it looked like he’d inhaled some of the fumes as well. A quick contortion of his face made me wonder if he had smelled something that confused him. He looked over at me, smirked, and looked away. 

“What?” I pried. 

“Oh, nothing. I was just curious to see whether you still smell the same things you smelled sixth year,” he quipped. “I believe it was new parchment, freshly mown grass, and spearmint toothpaste, wasn't it?”

He plastered a smug smile on his face, knowing his memory to be correct. The fumes from the Amortentia giving me confidence, I snarkily replied, “Actually, I don’t. Clearly I’m not attracted to the same kind of people I was when I was sixteen.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that so? Well then, please enlighten me on what attracts you now,” he said, putting his slender hands together at the fingertips and resting his index fingers on his lips.

“Fine. I still smell the fresh parchment, but now it’s mixed in with old books and something spicy,” I told him. “What do you smell, then, Malfoy?”

He kept his hands where they were, muffling the words coming out of his mouth. “A dusty library, strawberries and lilac, and fresh ink.” To me, those all seemed very different, so I could see why he’d looked confused earlier. 

We fell into another uncomfortable silence then. It seemed they were following us around and pouncing on us whenever we were attempting civil conversation, effectively ending them before they could even fully begin. The Amortentia seemed hell-bent on ruining any chance of normal conversation, so I just looked anywhere but at my fellow Head. 

 

I observed the slight changes Professor Imohera had made to the dingy classroom in an attempt to brighten it up and make it seem less dismal. He’d added several more torches along the walls to give the room more light. There were now fancy-looking plum-colored curtains hanging above each shelf, hiding the ingredients and potions held upon them. The wooden storage cabinets were now stained a rich chestnut brown and labeled in elegant beige script. My eyes finally came to rest upon the object I’d been avoiding for the last ten minutes: Malfoy.

The attitude he projected towards his peers and professors was much different than the one I was currently privy to, when he thought no one was watching him. He was much more relaxed in the shoulders, though his leg still bounced in either bored or nervous rhythm. His white-blond hair, still perfectly messy, had a bit of a crushed ingredient in it, and it took all my strength not to reach out and brush it out of his soft locks.

I shook my head, hard. _What the hell was that?_ I looked towards the Amortentia, spiral swirls of steam still escaping from the vent of the lid and I exhaled slowly. _This stupid potion is fogging up my brain!_ For the next few minutes, I focused on taking small breaths through my mouth, being extremely careful not to inhale through my nose so my sense could clear out the Amortentia fumes and their effects.

Professor Imohera finally declared, “All right, time’s up for those of you who have successfully completed your potions. Just leave them on your tables and I’ll collect the samples from them for you. Mr. Finnigan and Mr. MacMillan, the two of you may continue brewing. Two feet of parchment about the uses and effects of Amortentia and how it can be used offensively and defensively are due on my desk by Thursday. Class dismissed!”

Malfoy and I shoved our books into our bags and followed the rest of our peers out of the small classroom and into the slightly stuffy air of the dungeon corridor. I didn’t even care that it was musty—it was like a fresh summer breeze in my nose and lungs, free from the confining scent of the Amortentia. Leaving Malfoy’s side, I joined Ron and Harry up front and badgered them about their partners and how their potions went. 

We talked and laughed just like old times all the way to the Great Hall. It was a great thing, feeling like I’d finally come home to a place that actually seemed like home again. Our party joined the crowd of other students going to lunch. Smiling to myself, I was happy to notice that the majority of my peers were also finally settling back into the Hogwarts atmosphere we’d all come to know and love, simply putting our grief and painful memories aside for the moment. Merlin knows that’s what I’d been doing for the past couple of days, and it was causing the beginnings of a migraine. I ate quickly with Harry and Ron, dismissing myself from the table and returning to my room for a quick nap before my first lesson as a student professor.   
~*~*~*~*~   
 ** _Harry’s POV:  
_** Lunch couldn’t have come sooner after that Potions class. I really enjoyed Professor Imohera and how he decided to take on the class, but just having to brew Amortentia and inhale its intoxicating fumes for almost an hour messed with a bloke’s head far too much. Thankfully what I smelled from the fumes was still the same as sixth year, which meant Ginny. Unfortunately, we had a class of Care of Magical Creatures standing between lunchtime and us. Grudgingly, I’d continued on with the course for Hagrid’s sake. A few of the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had done the same, but the rest had dropped it.

After class was over, I noticed Hermione’s exhaustion beneath her carefully constructed mask of happiness as we walked towards the Great Hall for lunch, so I gave her knee a light squeeze to let her know I was okay with her leaving early.

 

After lunch was over, about a quarter of the seventh years went to Muggle Studies while the rest of us had a free period. Ron and I wandered out onto the grounds towards the tree Hermione and I had been sitting in yesterday. Once we were settled in the tree’s low-hanging branches, I asked him the question I’d waited to ask him all summer.

 

“What happened with you and ‘Mione?” 

 

Ron’s eyes narrowed and red tinged his cheeks. “What do you mean? You were there for most of it, you saw with your own eyes what happened.” 

 

“No, I mean, why did she break things off with you? She never told me and you didn’t either,” I clarified. “I just want to know if you still have feelings for her, is all.”

Ron sat up straighter and said, “Oh, right. Well we fought a bloody lot, as you know. It just wasn’t meant to be I guess,” he scratched his head. “But I don’t know if I still have feelings for her yet. It’s been a while since we’ve all been together and she hasn’t even been here half the time so I really can’t say yet, mate.”

I feared that’s what he would say; I just knew he’d find out about the next bloke Hermione had a crush on and he’d want to tear him apart. My mind couldn’t help but flit to Malfoy, and the whole idea that she had to live with that traitor irked me to no end. I know I vouched for him in his trial because I believed he could changed, but also just because he was the same scared boy I used to be who just didn’t have the right choices like I did.

“Speaking of Hermione, did you see how close Malfoy was to her in Potions?” Ron’s voice sliced through my thoughts.

“In all honesty, I was trying to brew a complicated potion, not ogling at Hermione and Malfoy,” I feigned sarcasm, but in reality I had similar concerns as he did.

Ron held up his hands defensively. “All right, Harry! Merlin, I just wish we could be there to protect her from that slimy git. I don’t care if he’s Head Boy because Dumbledore wanted him to be—he doesn’t deserve it,” Ron said meanly.

I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know better than I do that Hermione can take care of herself just fine without us there. She’s probably the only one who could survive alone in the woods out of all three of us, anyway!” I said lightly, ignoring the nagging thought at the back of my mind.

Ron chuckled and replied, “Yeah, you’re right. Come on, it’s almost time for Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid!”

We jumped down and traipsed back into the castle, book bags slung over our shoulders and our emotions much happier than they had been. As we went to the third floor, neither of us noticed a small floating shape behind a suit of armour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of the potions class? I'm going to have more with that class as I want to really flesh out Professor Imohera's character. Next chapter has some drama in it, and also a step in the right direction (of sorts) for Draco and Hermione. Please let me know what you think in a comment, it keeps me going!  
> ~Madi


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the long-awaited chapter! There's lots of character development int this chapter that I hope you like!

~*~*~Friday night~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

The first week of classes had passed without a hitch for almost the entire student body; only a few first years got lost on their way to Potions, but they were found quickly enough and sent in the right direction. For War and Peace, I taught the first two lessons with Dean and Luna. She didn’t want to give us all terrible workloads so she suggested the curriculum be more discussion and activity based rather than writing essays and doing research. Professor McGonagall wanted Malfoy to catch up for Advanced Ancient Runes before he began teaching with us, which was understandable.

 

Surprisingly, Malfoy was caught up almost immediately in Advanced Ancient Runes, and was giving me a run for my money for the top grade in the class. However, my competitive streak was going to rear its ugly head sooner or later, and with the way things were progressing between us, I hoped to Merlin it was later. We’d finally reached a sort of semi-routine every day where I’d go to the loo before he could get in the shower in the morning, and I’d be ready to go by the time he was out of the shower and dressed. It was actually a fairly decent compromise. 

 

Currently, I was meandering towards the library to study and finish up the essay on Amortentia for Professor Imohera. I gave Madam Pince a polite nod as I entered, immediately making a beeline towards my study place, a cozy chair and small table tucked away behind a bookcase full of muggle literature. Settling in one of the chairs at the table, I spread out all of my notes and books for Potions and began writing the last paragraph of my essay. 

 

I didn’t get very far into it, though, when I felt another presence nearby. Cautiously, I put up wards around my little area, hoping no one would try and scare me, because they’d be knocked down in an instant. My wards gave me little peace of mind, so I gave up on actually finishing the essay and turned to one of the texts I was debating on incorporating into the curriculum for War and Peace. I merely skimmed the page, not really reading it, as I listened for movement around the bookshelf. Nothing came, and I resigned myself to it being a remnant of constant suspicion from the war. 

 

Sighing, I put all of my books and parchment away, hating the loss of a good study session. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I disarmed the wards and left the library, heading towards the moving staircases to go to the dormitory. 

 

A distant boom accompanied by shouts forced me into a run towards my destination. As I reached the entrance to the moving staircases, plumes of stone dust blew out of the archway, and a few students covered in it and coughing it up came out of the dust cloud. Instantly, I went into authority mode and began helping more students out of the moving staircases as the dust cloud settled until I could appraise the situation. Thankfully, no one had been seriously hurt in what appeared to be one of the staircases collapsing out of the blue. 

 

As I was assessing the damage, I heard an intense shout of “Head Boy, out of the way!” from one of the upper levels. I looked up and caught eyes with Malfoy, two floors up. 

  
“What the bloody hell happened, Granger?” he demanded.

“Staircase collapsed. It must not have been repaired properly after the Battle,” I deduced loud enough for him to hear. 

Just then, Professors McGonagall, Tawley, and Dragoran appeared one floor above me. “Miss Granger, please enlighten us about the situation,” Professor McGonagall instructed calmly. 

 

“One of the moving staircases collapsed, and no one got seriously injured. It must not have gotten repaired correctly after the Battle, I’m guessing,” I recited.

“Very well,” said McGonagall. “Dean, Tatiana, would you assist me in cleaning this up?”

All three professors pulled out their wands and began waving them in complicated patterns. Mesmerized by the magic they were performing, I stood with my mouth hanging open as the staircase came back together, piece by piece. Finally, Professor McGonagall completed a very intricate pattern of wand work that caused the staircase to glow a bright teal color for a few seconds before fading. Almost instantly, the staircase began moving again like it hadn’t just collapsed ten minutes ago.

“Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, you may return to whatever it was you were doing before this, your work here is done, thank you,” McGonagall called out to us before turning and engaging Professor Tawley and Professor Dragoran in quiet discussion.

Taking my cue to leave, I began the ascent to the seventh floor—using a different staircase, though—and glanced up at Malfoy. I did a double take because he was looking at me worriedly. Hurrying up the last few steps to the landing Malfoy was standing on, I stopped too fast and tripped over my own feet again. His warm hands caught my biceps as I fell into him.

“Why do I always have to save you, Granger? Isn’t the cat supposed to land on its little feet every time?” he teased, helping me upright before releasing his grip on my arms.

I brushed off my clothes and his comment, not wanting to start an argument while still in earshot of Professor McGonagall and two other professors. “You gave me a weird look just before I tripped, why?” I asked.

He looked around furtively before roughly grabbing my wrist and pulling me down the corridor with him. “We can’t talk here. I have a place we can talk in private,” he whispered. 

Slightly terrified, I was pulled along in his wake. I ignored the way his hand felt around my wrist, ignored the pulse I could feel beginning to race in something similar to fear, ignored the glittering eyes floating by the suit of armor in the dark alcove behind it following our path down the corridor.   
~*~*~*~*~   
 ** _Draco’s POV:_**

After the staircase was repaired and Granger and I were dismissed, I hesitated, having forgotten just what I had been on my way to do. As I looked upwards at a shadowy landing, I felt a faint itching on my left forearm, and my heart dropped. The feeling faded just as quickly as it had come, and I had no time to process if it was real or not before Granger fell into my arms again.

 

Even though I still didn’t trust her completely she was the closest person I had aside from Blaise, and I needed to tell someone my theory about Hogwarts and about what just happened with the moving staircase. I probably could have been nicer about it, but I really wasn’t in the mood, especially so due to the random collapsing of the moving stairs. Rather than take her to the meeting room Blaise and I used, knowing we could be barged in on at any time, I decided to take her to a secret place I’d never taken anyone before. 

 

We wound through the corridors, our footsteps harsh and unforgiving as they echoed off the walls. Eventually my grip on her wrist loosened as I noticed her pulse begin to race from what I presumed was fear until I let go, praying to Merlin she didn’t try and run away.

We reached the tapestry depicting centaurs forming prophecies from the stars and I pressed a hand against the right-most centaur’s outstretched hand. A quiet hissing sound emanated from the tapestry and I ducked behind it, Granger following right behind me. Once the tapestry sealed itself against the wall once more, we were shrouded in complete darkness.

“Lumos,” I murmured, hearing Granger do the same. A flight of stone steps descending into darkness lay ahead of us. I took a deep breath and said, “Come on.”

Our wand light guided us down to the depths of something I knew Granger had never before experienced, and it made me anxious.   
~*~*~*~*~   
 ** _Harry’s POV:_**

Ron and I were just leaving the common room when we, quite literally, bumped into Blaise. 

“Whoops, sorry Blaise,” I apologized.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Po—er, Harry,” he said. “Say, have either of you seen Draco recently?”  
  
We shook our heads no. “Have you seen Hermione?” Ron asked.

 

“Huh. Well, last I heard they were helping Professor McGonagall, Dragoran, and Tawley with repairing the collapsed moving staircase, but that was hours ago,” Blaise recounted.

 

My brows furrowed in confusion. If that had been so long ago, where were they now? “They’re probably just arguing in the Heads’ dormitory, if anything. Or McGonagall gave them something to do,” I reasoned out.

 

“You’re probably right. See you later,” Blaise replied, stepping through the still-open portrait hole.

 

Ron and I exchanged puzzled looks before shrugging it off—it was Zabini after all. He was a slippery fellow, so I chose not to bother myself with his personal life as much as possible. Ron and I walked down to the Quidditch pitch, wanting to get some practice in before tryouts were held in a couple of weeks. The whole idea of Malfoy and Hermione spending so much time alone together went straight to the back of my mind the minute we took to the air.   
~*~*~*~*~   
 ** _Draco’s POV:_**  


As the light at the bottom of the stairs grew bright enough we didn’t need wand light, I extinguished my wand. Granger followed suit and subconsciously crept closer to me. We reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped at a small wooden door in the middle of the wall.

 

“Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus,” I said, tapping my wand twice on the door. The sound of the lock being turned put a grin on my face. “Just you wait and see, Granger.”

 

I opened the door slowly and let her go first through the short corridor, wanting her to see the place I called sanctuary. She made it barely two meters in before she turned to look at me, an expression of pure wonder on her face. Closing the door behind me, I joined her and fondly looked around us.

 

“Oh, Draco, this is amazing! How did you find this place?” Granger questioned. My mind pricked at the name drop, and I became invested in her again.  
  
“Fifth year, before I joined the Inquisitorial Squad, I was wandering the corridors one night after I’d finished my Prefect rounds with Blaise. I happened upon the tapestry and got lucky with the rest, I suppose,” I explained. “I don’t think this place had been touched for years until I found it; there was dust everywhere. Once I stepped into the room, though, it sprung to life. The walls came alive with secret messages scrawled with magic that faded in and out; twinkling lights that looked suspiciously like tiny fairies floated above my head and around the room. As I moved my feet, the lichen lit up a bright chartreuse.” 

 

As I described the ‘underground courtyard’ to her, I watched as the things I mentioned began happening around us. Magical graffiti appeared all over the smooth walls, exploding in different colors and lasting for anywhere from five seconds to five minutes. I watched as Granger moved to the nearest wall, lightly touching the wall with her fingertips and jumping back when the words ‘Fate awaits’ sprouted from her touch in a mix of scarlet and silver, swirls enveloping the words until they were unreadable and faded from sight. 

 

“Whoa,” she breathed, turning once again with childish delight towards me.

I smiled back, temporarily having forgotten the main reason I’d brought her here and just reveling in the relaxing nature of the room. Then, a group of the floating lights detached from the ceiling and flew towards us, circling closer to us until we bumped into each other. Our hands grazed and electric shocks jolted through me at the points of contact between us. A few of the lights settled in the loose curls of Granger’s hair, and I couldn’t help but notice just how beautiful her face was, now that we were in such close quarters. Her big brown eyes now fit perfectly in her face, and her slender cheekbones almost rivaled mine. The lights in her hair made it look like she was glowing, and suddenly I had a flashback to my nightmare.

I looked away from her and stepped back, clearing my throat. “Right, well. Granger, I’ve got some things I’d like to say to you,” I began briskly.

“As long as you aren’t about to confess how much you’ve loved me since first year, go right ahead,” she smirked.

“This isn’t a laughing matter,” I snapped. That wiped the smirk right off her face; the brightness of the courtyard dimmed almost instantly, and the twinkling lights left her hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rude,” I apologized. This was not how I wanted this to go at all. I took another step back so I could look her in the face without craning my neck.

“Listen to me very carefully. I don’t think Hogwarts is safe anymore. You were there for the staircase collapsing—it’s never happened before, but I don’t think it was just because of a failed repair job after the Battle of Hogwarts. Something seems off to me, but I can’t place it. I wouldn’t be telling you this if it wasn’t more relevant than you think. Today, after McGonagall fixed the staircase, I felt my Dark Mark tingle,” I pulled my sleeve up to show her.

 

The tattoo that had controlled my life for the past two years had faded after the Dark Lord had been killed with his own curse. Now, though, it was a dark shade of grey: something that worried me greatly. Granger stepped closer to me, peering at the mark.

 

“It hasn’t looked like this since just after the Dark Lord’s death. I don’t understand what it means, or why it’s happening. In theory, the Mark should have faded away completely, but obviously it hasn’t, which means something is going on I don’t know about, and it involves Death Eaters,” I said, my eyes flitting to her troubled face.

 

“Granger, something big is going on. I need to find out what it is, but I need your help to do it. If a Death Eater found a way to control the Dark Marks again, I could become a liability to our cause. I don’t want that to happen, and that’s why you’re here with me. I’ve never brought anyone else here. You’re the only person I trust enough with something like this,” I declared, my eyes searching her chocolate ones.

 

She thought about it for a few minutes, perching delicately on a smoothly hewn stone bench. I eased myself onto one angled perpendicular to hers, still observing her. She exhaled slowly, her body tense, organizing the last of her thoughts.

 

“While I do think you’re somewhat overly paranoid, I would have to agree with you. Hogwarts doesn’t seem like it should be, post-war that it is. Your Dark Mark vexes me because I don’t have a clue how any magic like that works. The staircase collapsing made me wonder too if there isn’t something going on at Hogwarts we haven’t found out about—yet, at least,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

 

“Your liability as a traitor to Voldemort’s cause is something we’ll have to think about on a daily basis. I don’t doubt your loyalties now, but I’m sure if there’s someone out there messing with the Dark Marks, I’m almost certain they want to get to you and use you any way they can. Even though I don’t trust you hardly at all, really, it doesn’t sit well with me,” she finished, avoiding responding to my statement about being the first person here with me. For that, I was grateful.

 

I nodded and leaned forward, resting my forearms on my thighs. “So what are we going to do about it, then?” I asked the question we were both thinking about.

 

“We can’t take this to McGonagall yet; it’s too early for that to even be an option because we don’t know what we’re dealing with here, if we’re even dealing with anything at all. I think for now our best bet is to just go about our daily routine like usual and see if anything pops up that seems out of the ordinary. Until we have real evidence, there’s no point in not enjoying our regular school days,” she stated. “Besides, we’ve got a ball to plan, remember?” 

 

A smile flitted across her face so fast I thought I imagined it. The tension dropped between us, and the twinkling lights began moving around with energy again.

 

“Unfortunately,” I replied sarcastically.

“Very funny, Malfoy,” she patronized me. “I’m going to put wards up in the common room and our bedrooms when we go back there later, just as an extra precaution against anyone who might have ill will towards either of us. Is that all right with you?”

Her thoughtfulness touched me. “Yeah, that’s actually a brilliant idea, Hermione,” her name rolled off my tongue before I could think about it. Her cheeks turned a light pink and I looked away.

 

“Come on, I’m sure Potter and Weasley are wondering where you are,” I said, making my way towards the exit. “Oh, and don’t tell anyone about this place. This one’s just between us,” I told her.

 

We left the magical courtyard and began the long trek back up the stone steps. The sense of security I’d had in the courtyard faded with each step and I quickly grew anxious about what lay waiting for us in the darkest depths of Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! How'd you like that chapter? Who's the mysterious figure that keeps hiding in the shadows and behind statues? What do you think of Draco and Hermione's civility and working together? Let me know in a comment! :)  
> ~Madi x
> 
> come find me on tumblr: deadgranger.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait on this--I moved back into college and wanted to get settled in before I posted a new chapter. So here you go as a celebration of day one of classes being a breeze!

****_Hermione’s POV:_ ** **

Over the weekend nothing overly exciting happened at Hogwarts. I mostly kept to myself when I wasn’t with Harry and Ron, making lesson plans for War and Peace, occasionally checking in with Dean and Luna to get their approval and thoughts.  As I finished up an activity, I felt a headache make its presence known. Sighing, I rubbed circles on my forehead, attempting to release the stress that had built up over the past weekend. Tomorrow, it was just going to be Malfoy and me teaching; Professor McGonagall advised we waited to introduce him as the final teacher due to his somewhat deceiving role during the War. 

 

The fact it was going to be fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws we were teaching was not helping my headache whatsoever. I set the lesson plan for tomorrow off to the side and closed my eyes, taking slow, even breaths. When that didn’t work in combination with massaging my forehead, I gave in an accioed my bottle of ibuprofen pills from the bathroom. I swallowed three dry and put my work away while waiting for the painkillers to kick in. 

 

I moved over to the couch, wrapping myself in a large blanket before lying down. Staring into the fire, it slowly grew blurry as my eyelids drooped, the painkillers finally kicking in. I fell asleep soon after, my unconsciousness blissfully empty of nightmares and dreams alike. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

 

After visiting Astoria in the Slytherin common room for a few hours after lunch, I returned to the dormitory with the intention of picking a fight with Granger for the hell of it. However, once I got inside, my rude comment died on my lips as I saw her sleeping peacefully on the couch, her face and body completely relaxed. I hesitated in the entranceway, debating if I should move her to her bedroom or just let her sleep here until it was time for dinner. Ultimately I made the easier choice to let her be, knowing getting a good night’s sleep was still ridiculously difficult for the both of us. 

 

We’d begun casting silencing charms on our bedrooms at night before going to bed so we didn’t constantly wake each other up with our nightmares. The purple half moons beneath both of our eyes betrayed the silence, though—the nightmares plagued us still. I went to the kitchenette and quietly got a glass from an upper cupboard, filling it with cold water from the sink. Staring out the window behind the sink, I observed the Forbidden Forest in its vastness and darkness, wondering what still remained lurking out there from the War. It was too far away for me to see any discernible figures and the sun was beginning to set, so I turned away and sat down at the table.

 

The small bottle on the far side of the table perplexed me. Reaching out for it, I picked it up and turned it around to read the label. “Ibuprofen tablets: two hundred milligrams?” I sounded out quietly. “Pain relief for headaches, menstrual cramps, injuries, surgery…”

 

My eyebrows scrunched together. I opened the bottle and poured out several of the little round things. Curious, I held them closer to my eye for inspection. As I moved my cupped hand, a few decided to roll off my palm and onto the table and then the floor, making more noise than I thought possible from such small things. I froze then; flicking my eyes to Granger to make sure she didn’t wake up, I relaxed when she just adjusted in her sleep. Returning to the things in my hand, I deduced they were pills and that Granger had probably taken a couple before falling asleep. Satisfied I had solved this little mystery, I replaced the pills in the bottle and screwed the cap back on, putting back in the same exact spot I’d taken it from. I pulled my copy of _Pride & Prejudice_ out of my bag and began reading, waiting for Granger to wake up.

~*~*~*~

About two and a half hours later she finally woke up from her nap. I watched silently as she sat up and stretched like a cat, releasing a sleepy moan. She still hadn’t noticed me sitting at the table, so I decided to scare her for the fun of it.  

 

“You slept for bloody long enough,” I commented, fingering my now empty water glass. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

 

Her surprised jump at my voice made a smirk flit across my face.

 

“Oh, I am _not_ doing this right now, Malfoy! I have a pounding headache and I am not in the mood to deal with your immature desire to bicker with me like children! Go to dinner by yourself, you cockroach!” she shouted at me.

 

I realized then that it was probably not the most intelligent idea of mine to taunt the lioness while she was slightly incapacitated, so I backed down. “Fine, Granger. Sorry,” I uttered under my breath.

 

She glared at me. “What did you say?” she asked darkly.

 

“I said sorry, Granger. What more do you want from me?” I retorted. I was beginning to get fed up with her back and forth attitude with me as much as she was with me.

 

“I want you to stop being so contradictory all the time! Can’t we just try and be civil like we are when we’re discussing the finer attributes of literature or potions or what have you? And can we please stop referring to each other by our last names? It’s exhausting, and it’d make this so much easier for both of us,” she insisted, standing up from the couch and walking towards the kitchenette.

 

She did have a point. We got along extremely well if the topic of conversation was academically related. “Fine, whatever. I’ll try to stop being such a prick all the time, as long as you stop acting like a bitch whenever I make jokes about any of your Gryffindor friends, all right? Can we start with that?” I bargained. 

 

Granger nodded and said, “Great. It’s a deal.” 

 

I stood from my place at the table and met her at the border between the common area and kitchenette. We shook hands firmly before separating quickly. “Can we get dinner now, please? I don’t know how to work any of this bloody muggle stuff,” I complained.

 

She let out a tinkling laugh and replied, “Sure, Draco. And then we have to discuss how we’re going to run class tomorrow since it’s your first day on the job.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

About ten minutes before the lunch period officially ended, Draco and Hermione left for their classroom on the fourth floor. They set their bags down behind the large front table and prepared the lesson for the fifth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. Both of them were extremely nervous, but were wary of showing it to the other.

 

“Er, Gra-Hermione? I think it’s best if I’m not exactly in plain view right away, considering how much most of this lot already hates me and thinks I’m vile. It’s more logical for you to introduce me, that way you can be a bit of a buffer for them. No offense,” Draco reasoned.

 

“None taken,” she said easily. “You can wait in the office back there then. I’ll call you with this.” She handed him a small bit of parchment. “It’s enchanted, so when I write on this one here,” she held up a similar piece, “it’ll show up on yours. Good enough for you?”

 

Draco smiled at her ingenuity. “This is brilliant. Thank you. I’ll just be waiting in the office then. They should be coming soon,” he checked his watch before ducking into the small room.

 

Once the door closed behind him, Hermione let out a shaky breath and rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirt. She had a bad feeling about how the Gryffindors would react to Malfoy being one of their teachers for this course and being Head Boy to boot. Students began trickling in, oblivious to Hermione’s nervousness and the man concealed in the office. Finally the last student entered, and Hermione began class.

 

“Hello again, everyone! I hope you had a good first week of classes. Are any of you going to try out for Quidditch in a couple of weeks?” she stalled, wanting them to feel relaxed before they got riled up when Malfoy entered the room. Quite a few hands were in the air and she smiled, happy that Quidditch was something everyone wanted to do no matter what. “That’s excellent! Well, today I will be introducing the other student teaching this class with me, but as a reminder, it won’t always be the same two people teaching you. It could be any of the four of us on a given day, so just be aware of that. However, any homework assigned by myself will be graded by me, so don’t worry about that,” Hermione paused to write on the little slip of parchment.

 

“Now, your other instructor for today, as chosen by Professor McGonagall due to his unique experiences during the War, is Draco Malfoy,” Hermione stated strongly.

 

Draco sauntered out of the office right as she said his name, but was not prepared for the barrage of vicious and cruel remarks thrown his way. The students continued yelling rude things at him until Hermione got them under control.

 

“Silencio!” Hermione shouted. “I know how all of you feel about this; I wanted to react like you did when Professor McGonagall proposed the idea in the first place. The difference between us is this: I got over it instantly. It’s petty of you to hate him for doing what he was _forced_ to do in order to stay alive, to keep his family alive. While Mr. Malfoy here might not have the cleanest record, neither do I; neither do most of you. He’s here because he wishes to redeem himself and finish his education to become a Healer. Just because his actions were muddy, his morals were—are right. So if you can’t handle being taught by him, then you’re welcome to leave,” Hermione declared, her voice even.

 

The silence was deafening. Hermione and Draco looked at each other, and she nodded, giving him the floor.

 

He turned back to the fifth years, noting the resentment they harbored in their tight-lipped expressions and clenched fists. “If you’re questioning my loyalty, you’re not wrong to do so. However, if you continue to question it as the term progresses, I will not hesitate to call you out on it in the middle of class. Professor McGonagall wished me to help teach this class because I can offer you the experience of being on the bad side of the war because you have no other choice. I agreed because I felt the need to explain myself, and why I did what I did. This mark,” Draco paused and pulled his sleeve up to show the class his left forearm, the inky black mark a stain on his porcelain skin, “does not represent me as a person. It represents the failures of my father, of myself, to get out and do the right thing.”

 

“I took the Dark Mark barely three days after I turned sixteen,” he continued. “The Dark Lord commanded me to take it, and fulfill the task he set me, or he would kill me and my family. That task was to kill Dumbledore. The only reason I did as I was told was to save my own life, and my family’s lives, because they were the most important things to me. I didn’t particularly like the Dark Lord or his goals, but I had to pretend for two years of my life to enjoy what he enjoyed while he lived in my house. I watched as he murdered the Muggle Studies professor on my dining room table and the snake ate her. I watched as Miss Granger was tortured by my aunt Bellatrix for information she didn’t have. I watched as Hagrid carried my so-called enemy, dead, in his arms. I was forced to return to the Death Eaters because that was where my parents were, and I only wanted them to be safe.”  
  
“So don’t preach to me about loyalty and bravery because you don’t know me, and you don’t know the things I endured at the hands of the Dark Lord. If anyone still questions my reasons for being here, we can discuss it in private at a later time,” Draco finished, his voice gruff from speaking for so long.

The class was eerily silent after his declaration—no one so much as adjusted how they were sitting in their seats, and they all had their heads bowed in submission. Draco rolled his sleeve down and nodded to Hermione, signaling her to continue class.

Hermione cleared her throat and looked down at the parchment she was holding in her hand. “All right, today we’re going to be comparing the economy during wartimes and peacetimes for both the wizarding and the muggle communities. Obviously, wars are held much differently in the muggle world than in the wizarding world due to major differences in technology and warfare techniques, but the economies are affected quite similarly. Does anyone have any suggestions as to how?” she moved to the chalkboard and had her hand poised to write. 

 

“Less people out buying unnecessary things,” a Ravenclaw called out. Hermione wrote it down. 

 

“Less vendors selling their products,” another Ravenclaw suggested. Hermione chalked this one down as well.

 

“People rationing food, clothing, basically anything they could,” a Gryffindor supplied.

Hermione copied it down and said, “These are excellent, and are exactly what happens during wartimes. During World War II in the muggle world, the women and children at home were told to ration what they had and to buy specific items so that the troops fighting overseas or in another country could get the supplies they needed. In America, the economy was actually doing well because women had taken the men’s positions in the factories and were rationing everything they could in order to save money and supplies for the war efforts. Propaganda was a big influence during this time period to help the economy and war efforts in the muggle world. Mr. Malfoy, would you care to elaborate on how citizens handled wizarding wars in the past, as it’s more your expertise than mine?”

Draco cleared his throat, tucked his hands behind his back and said, “Before the major part of a war would occur, many wizarding folk with the money, connections, or pure skill would disappear like invisible ink on parchment from the public eye. They did this to avoid being caught in the crossfire or be persecuted, like what happened the past two years. Many of them would stock up on perishables and other necessities in a safe house somewhere before actually leaving their homes. Intricate and complex wards assured them of safety for the most part. For those that were unable to leave, these wards were their only safeguard, so many of them would simply have to pretend like everything was normal and go to work or school and constantly be on their guard, waiting for an attack to happen at any second. It really caused the economy to tank for a long time due to the lack of consumers and producers putting money into the market.”

 

The scratching of quills as the fifth year students wrote down everything Hermione and Draco had said made him relax a little bit. The tension in the room had slowly dissipated as the lesson went on, the students now more focused on learning and passing the class than on Draco’s complicated past.

“Now, how are peacetime economies different from wartime economies?” Hermione questioned, erasing the chalkboard for the next round of ideas. The rest of the class passed quickly enough, with Hermione and Draco sharing equally between describing the muggle and wizarding aspects of economy.

“That’s all we’ve got time for today, unfortunately. For next week, if you could all do some research on both muggle and wizarding diplomatic strategies during times of war and come with notes prepared, that would be great! Class dismissed,” Hermione stated cheerily. The sound of scraping chairs and rustling parchment filled the room as the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors packed up and left, on to their next classes.

 

Hermione and Draco began putting the classroom back in order and their things away. She eyed him, concern clearly apparent on her face. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

 

Draco whirled to face her. “I’m fine, Granger. Let’s just go to Defense,” he said tiredly. He closed the door to the classroom behind them and they ventured down to the third floor, both anxious to get away from the strained environment they’d been in for the past hour.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

 

Dinner couldn’t have come fast enough after the rough class teaching War and Peace and a rather unexciting Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Even though dinner usually excited me because it meant a delicious meal, I barely touched the food I’d eagerly scooped onto my plate. I kept looking across the hall at Granger and Weasley talking and laughing together. It made me lose my appetite, seeing those two so close when she’d just told me the other day how she hadn’t felt anything for him other than sisterly love.

 

Frankly, it was kind of pissing me off; I didn’t have a clue why.

 

Shoving my plate forward, I excused myself from the table and stalked out of the Great Hall, heading towards the Astronomy tower to clear my head. Once I reached it, I breathed in the crisp September air, relishing its freshness. I gripped the cold metal railing with both hands and looked out over the Black Lake, my eyes sweeping it with a practiced precision only a Seeker like myself possessed. Only a few minutes had passed before I heard footsteps on the stairs leading up to the observatory where I was currently. I knew who it was before she even opened the door and joined me.

 

“Go away, Granger, I didn’t say you could follow me up here,” I stated.

 

“Sorry I’m slightly worried you’re going to do something rash when I notice you leave dinner early looking somewhat maniacal,” she replied. 

I turned to look at her. Her face was an open book, allowing me to read her legitimate worry about me, but also her fear of me. Using my height to my advantage, I loped over to her and said through gritted teeth, “Stay the bloody hell out of my business, all right? You have no right to involve yourself in things you don’t belong in. Don’t come looking for me whenever I’m not in your immediate sight; I’m not a baby, I can bloody take care of myself!”

She looked hurt at that, but I just brushed past her roughly and strode out of the Astronomy tower and down to the hidden courtyard to let off some steam. It was beginning to seem impossible to get a single break from her suffocating presence, even in a castle this big. A few fake duels later, and I was much calmer and ready to do patrols with Finch-Fletchly the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Peeves had watched many different things happen in the castle at Hogwarts in the time he’d resided here, but none were as interesting as the dynamic between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Ever since the War and Peeves had been struck with some curse, his humor had darkened into something much more malicious and twisted. He was often lurking behind suits of armour and statues, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. The poltergeist had gotten extreme satisfaction with the collapse of the moving staircase, and was planning something even bigger than that for Halloween.[  
](deadgranger.tumblr.com)  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeves is quite different now, isn't he? If you feel his character is too off, please leave a comment down below or message me and I'd be happy to talk to you about him. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr as well! deadgranger.tumblr.com


	14. Chapter Thirteen

~*~*~*~ **Breakfast, Tuesday** ~*~*~*~  
 ** _Hermione’s POV:_**  
I hadn’t seen Malfoy since our exchange on the Astronomy tower last night, but I had a sneaking suspicion he’d gone down to the hidden courtyard for some real quiet. The return to calling me by my last name felt like a step back from the slow progress we’d made in the past two weeks, but I knew it’d be slow as a snail and have many setbacks. I didn’t know why, but I had the need to help Malfoy, to help him redeem himself, or at least see things differently than he was raised to.

I was so deeply engrossed in my thoughts that I nearly spilled my orange juice all over my lap when Harry and Ron sat down next to me with loud thumps.

“Sorry, ‘Mione, didn’t mean to scare you,” Ron apologized as he immediately began filling his plate with anything within reach.

“Do you ever stop eating?” I teased, smiling at his ever-constant love of food.

“Sometimes,” he replied cheekily, stuffing a large bite of scrambled eggs in his mouth. Ron swallowed and asked Harry, “When are you planning on holding tryouts for the Quidditch team? Or are you not captain anymore?”

Harry finished drinking his milk and said, “I’m leaving that up to Ginny, seeing as she’s more suited to the position currently than I am. I reckon it’ll be in a couple of weeks. Scared you won’t make Keeper even though there is literally no one else for you to compete with?”

Ron grinned sheepishly. I rolled my eyes. “You boys and Quidditch. How did we ever become friends?” I joked.

“Well we did knock out a mountain troll together. I feel like that kind of bonds you for life,” Harry smiled. “Post is coming in.”

I looked towards the ceiling for my tawny owl Artemis, holding out my hand expectantly when I spotted her flying towards me. Artemis dropped a Daily Prophet and letter from my parents in my hand before flying out of the Great Hall and towards the Owlery. I tucked the letter from mum and dad away for later and unrolled the Daily Prophet, expecting something rather uninteresting like it had been for the past few days. The large bolded headline and picture of Kingsley on the front page put me on high alert in an instant.

**_Break-in at Department of Mysteries: Several Dark Artifacts Confirmed Missing_ **

  
_By Rita Skeeter_  

_Late last night a break-in occurred at the Ministry of Magic’s Department of Mysteries. The Ministry was closed, all floo grates blocked, anti-apparition wards up, and employee and visitor entrances closed until morning. This raises suspicion as to how the robber would have gotten into the Ministry in the first place, unless he or she was already inside the Ministry before it closed._

_“We are in the process of questioning all members of the Ministry, including the Unspeakables, to confirm their alibies and determine who would have broken into the Department of Mysteries,” Minister Shacklebolt says. “As we speak, the Unspeakables are combing the Department of Mysteries to make sure nothing else was taken, and the process to get in has been changed to allow for more security.”_

_It seems that this break-in was highly unanticipated. The name and type of Dark artifacts taken have not yet been released to the public. No trace of the robber has been found yet. Let us hope that the Minister’s stout resilience will end this matter of possible national security quickly and effectively. More information about the break-in will come at a later date._

 

“What is it, ‘Mione?” Ron asked when I crumpled the paper in my fist. 

 

“The Department of Mysteries was broken into and several Dark objects were taken. The Ministry is currently trying to determine how it could have happened but they aren’t releasing what was taken yet,” I summarized.

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, his face draining of color. Harry’s paled similarly.

Nervous titters raced through the Great Hall as more and more students read Rita Skeeter’s latest article. The sound level reached such an incredible volume that Professor McGonagall cast a silencing spell on the hall to prevent mass hysteria.

“Silence! I have been informed of the situation by the Minister for Magic himself, so there is no need to be hysterical!” she scolded. “Now, because there are Dark objects missing, all trips to Hogsmeade will be suspended until the culprit or objects are apprehended. Professors and Prefects will be patrolling all night after curfew for extra security. The Ministry should have this handled soon, and we shall all be able to return to our normal routines. Off to class now!”

The sounds of hundreds of my fellow students rising from the benches and gathering our things for classes were nearly deafening. Thankfully, none of the first years had Herbology today, meaning I could actually get to class on time. I left Harry and Ron as they returned to the common room, not having class until Charms. I walked quickly to the Ancient Runes classroom on the sixth floor, hoping to procure my usual seat in the front.

Once I arrived at the classroom, I noticed Malfoy lounging in my seat. “Oh, sorry Granger, is this where you usually sit? Looks like you’ll have to find another seat for now,” he said in a fake voice.

I rolled my eyes and sat two seats to his right, using my hair as a curtain between us. Deftly I arranged my book and notes on the desk and folded my hands, waiting for Professor Babbling to enter and begin class. Malfoy scoffed and reclined further in his seat, but his materials were also out on his desk as well.  _Idiot_.

A few minutes later Professor Babbling entered through her office and immediately began the lesson on ancient Greek runes.  
~*~*~*~ **Tuesday Night** ~*~*~*~   
 ** _Harry’s POV:_**

Ron and I were at the Quidditch Pitch for the third time already this week, having gone twice yesterday. We took up our usual positions: Ron in the hoops as Keeper and me as Chaser. If I had inherited some of my father’s star Chaser skills, maybe then I wouldn’t have been such a bad shot. I think it’s why I was better suited as a Seeker—I could catch things easier than I could throw them. But if Ron knew how poor of a shot I was, then he was keeping quiet about it and doing his best to come up with different ways to block my shots at the goalposts. 

 

We were about forty-five minutes in, and already I was running out of ideas. It was hard to complete plays without other players there, so I was having a difficult time figuring out logistics of single-person Chasing. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the Quidditch pitch into a golden glow. After my terrible execution of the Wronski Feint, a loud feminine voice shouted from the ground.

“Hey! Mind if we join you?” Ginny yelled to my surprise. Mandy Brocklehurst was with her, each of them dressed in their Chaser gear and holding their brooms.

“Come on up!” Ron roared, waving his arm in an invitational gesture.

The two girls mounted their brooms and zoomed up to where Ron and I were hovering near the goalposts. Mandy gave a shy smile to Ron, causing his ears to turn red.

“Fancy a game of boys versus girls?” Ginny asked, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

“Only because Harry and I will crush you! It’s on, little sister!” Ron declared boisterously.

We all laughed at Ron and Ginny’s enthusiasm as we got into our positions, with Mandy and Ron acting as Keepers and Ginny and I as Chasers. Ginny threw the Quaffle up into the air above our heads and the game was on.

Even with Ginny and Mandy working together, they could barely get any goals thanks to Ron’s extreme protectiveness of the goalposts. Somehow my aim managed to improve greatly once we were actually playing the game because I made four goals without any assistance from Ron. The score stayed very close, neither of us able to get more than twenty points ahead of the other team before they scored again.

After what felt like many hours, we finally agreed to call it a tie and ended the game. Ginny gave me a pointed look and tilted her head up, flying off towards the other end of the Quidditch pitch and higher up into the sky. I glanced at Ron to see he and Mandy were discussing Quaffle techniques and zoomed off to meet Ginny.

“What’s this about, Ginny?” I asked cautiously, leveling off a few feet away from her.

“I wanted to apologize for my actions earlier,” Ginny said. “I overreacted and I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and I want you back.”

I couldn’t help the smile that broke out on my face. “I’m sorry too, Gin. I should have told you and I didn’t, and that was wrong of me. From now on, I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” I promised, edging my broom closer to hers.

She grinned and closed the distance between our brooms, and leaned over to hug me. I hugged her back. “I love you,” I said.

“I love you too,” came her muffled reply. We broke apart and flew back down to Ron and Mandy. 

“Everything all right now, mate?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Ron,” I answered. “Come on, let’s go back to the common room before it gets too dark.”

The four of us flew down to the ground and dismounted. We got out of our Quidditch gear, stowing it away for later, and walked back to the castle together. As we began the trek upstairs to the seventh year common room and Gryffindor tower, we chatted amiably about Quidditch and which House we thought was going to win the House Championship this year. My eyes scanned the corridors for signs of danger, an old habit left from the War. 

I missed the shadow behind a suit of armour.   
~*~*~*~*~*~   
 ** _Hermione’s POV:_**

Thankfully, after dinner I was free for the rest of the night, as I didn’t have to patrol until tomorrow night. Once I got back to the common room I changed into comfy pants and an old t-shirt with a muggle band on it. Grabbing my school bag, I sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the armchair I’d claimed as mine. I took out my Ancient Runes textbook and translation books, and began translating the assignment Professor Babbling had assigned to us this morning.

 

Ancient Greek wasn’t terribly difficult to decipher, so I was almost completely finished with the translations when Malfoy came banging into the common room. I rolled my eyes and set my quill down, waiting for the smart remark to come. But, nothing came. Instead, he stalked past me and went right up to his room, closing his door with nearly as much force as when he’d come into the dormitory. Confused, I shook my head and finished the last two translations. As I waited for the ink to dry, I put away my textbooks in my schoolbag.

I was just rolling up the translations when I heard a loud bang come from Malfoy’s room. Taking a breath, I decided not to go in there unless I heard another one. I put the assignment away in my bag and pulled out my Arithmancy book and began the assignment Professor Vector assigned this afternoon. Malfoy didn’t come out of his room for the rest of the night, and no scary banging sounds came from his direction either. Glancing at the clock, I realized it had somehow reached midnight already.

As I gathered my things up, I had a moment of indecision.  _Should I go see if Malfoy is okay or just leave him be?_ I chose the latter, not desiring another argument with him over something frivolous. All the same, I still hesitated outside his door, listening for anything. Hearing nothing, I quietly entered my bedroom and got ready for bed. I crawled under my thick blankets, leaving a space for Crookshanks to curl up next to me. My furry ginger cat joined me not a minute later, and I pulled the blankets up over his body and my shoulders.

I lay there, eyes closed, willing my brain to turn off, but it just did not comply with my wishes. My thoughts weren’t even very coherent—just fragments of memories and daydreams and words I’d wanted to say. Much to Crookshanks’ annoyance, I kept tossing and turning, attempting to find a better position to sleep in so my brain would actually shut down and I could sleep. It was like my mind decided to turn my body on high and make me hyperaware of every single place my bare skin was touching the sheets, where my shirt was wrinkled against my body and the bed, and where each individual piece of hair was. I groaned and sat up, rather unwillingly, realizing sleep would be evading me for a while yet.

Crookshanks meowed at me as I slipped out of my bed, missing my warmth. “Oh hush, you!” I scolded him in a whisper shout as I pulled my dressing gown on, tying it loosely around my waist and slipping my wand into its pocket. I opened my door slowly, wincing as it creaked loudly, and went down to the common area. Expecting to be alone, I gasped in surprise when I saw a blond head. I quickly covered my mouth, staring at Malfoy in his armchair, head drooping, obviously asleep. Noting that he didn’t stir at my gasp, I tiptoed my way into the kitchenette and began making myself a mug of jasmine tea.

Using a heating spell on the water, I brought it to a boil and then put the tea leaves into my infuser and checked the clock to see when three minutes had passed. Unable to help myself, I looked across the room at Malfoy’s sleeping form. His face was completely relaxed, for once, and it seemed like he wasn’t having a nightmare this time around. Even though my nightmares occurred much less often now, I still Silencio-d my room every night, just in case, and I’m sure he did the same thing. I imagined this was what he must have been like, sleeping as a child without any cares in the world, not having to carry the weight of the world on his already burdened shoulders, not having to deal with life and death so often he lost count, and definitely not having to deal with the burn of being called ‘scum’ and ‘traitor.’ I frowned at this thought; considering all he’d been through, what everyone had been through, I thought he deserved some help getting to a better place.

And I was going to help him get there, no matter what other people thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is slowly catching up to the last of the chapters I have written so updates may be slower due to that and the fact I'm back in college so that will slow things down as well. Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos, they mean a lot to me! :)
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr: deadgranger.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter Fourteen

What little light was in the room from the torch outside the door was quickly extinguished after the man entering closed the door. The only remaining light came from several small candles placed strategically around the room, shrouding the original occupant of the room in complete shadow.

“My lord,” the newcomer kneeled, bowing his head. “They remain unaware of our plot. The collapse of the staircase is blamed on bad repairs after the Battle of Hogwarts. You did not have that arranged, though, did you, my lord?”

“No, I did not. I suspect there is some truth to their assumptions, or there is another player yet to be considered in this game,” the darkened figure said, his voice gruff. “I need you to continue observing the situation. Find out if there is something else we will have to take into account before moving forward in our endeavor. You must also find ways to determine the specifics of the centaur prophecy before it comes to pass in six months’ time. The Malfoy boy must be terminated and under our complete control before then, or all it lost to our Master’s cause, you know that.”

“Yes, my lord. As you command, my lord,” the man bowed once more, still on bent knee.

The man shrouded in the darkness leaned forward then, only visible by the outline of the candles. “Take a different path from the way you came, and report back to me in three weeks’ time. However, if there is an emergency, you know how to contact me immediately. Get out of my sight, now!” he instructed.

The man hastily bowed once more before scurrying out of the room, much like a mouse scampering to the safety of his own mouse hole.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“All right class, settle down,” Professor Imohera said as he entered the classroom. Everyone immediately ended their personal conversations and turned attentively towards the front of the classroom. “Now then. Last week, you brewed Amortentia and wrote about the effects love potions can have on wars. This week, you will be brewing the exact opposite of a love potion—a hate potion.”  
  
Excited murmurs rippled throughout the class, and Professor Imohera smiled broadly at the class’s interest. “Since I’ve got your full, undivided attention now,” he paused, “I suppose it’s time to explain the basis of this potion. Can anyone, aside from Miss Granger, tell me what the basic effects of a hate potion are? Have to spread the love, Miss Granger.”

Mandy Brocklehurst raised her hand, if a bit uncertainly. “Hate potions reveal the worst faults and habits of the targeted person to the drinker of the potion,” she recited from memory.

“Excellent, five points to Ravenclaw, Miss Brocklehurst!” Professor Imohera said. “What are the uses of this type of potion in wars, may you ask? Well, it allows the drinker to discover secrets about another person and can essentially tell them if they’re being lied to. It’s very useful in that it can break up relationships and friendships that have withstood the sands of time. However, none of you will be drinking any of this potion, as I don’t want to have to explain to Madam Pomfrey why eighteen of my most mature students are in the infirmary with bruises, cuts, and the like. Everyone understand me?”

All eighteen students nodded vigorously, all of them slightly disappointed they wouldn’t actually get to test the potion out.

“Good. The brewing time is very swift, but take note: it is easy to mess up on this potion, so don’t be disgruntled if it doesn’t go right the first time, but don’t let it touch you at all, because it can turn somewhat volatile if brewed incorrectly. You can try again after letting me know you need to do so, and I will take care of the wrongly brewed batch. The instructions for brewing the particular type of hate potion we want begin on page forty-four in your textbooks. You may begin,” he instructed.

Just like last week, the rest of the class squabbled by the cauldron cupboard while Malfoy and Hermione gathered all of the ingredients they would need for the potion. “Grab the belladonna, would you, Granger?” Malfoy said, his arms full.

She snagged it with her left hand, carefully placing all of the ingredients she’d gotten alongside the ones Malfoy had grabbed. While she arranged them in order of necessity, he went to get his cauldron, now that the cupboard was free from the throng of other students now squabbling over at the ingredients shelves. Once he’d set it over the burner, Hermione lit the fire with a quick spell and began putting the initial ingredients into the cauldron and letting them come to a boil.

“Malfoy, could you mix the essence of belladonna with the crushed black beetle eyes, please? I need those straightaway after I put in the lionfish spine,” Hermione queried.

Silently he poured the two ingredients together into a small bowl and stirred them, making sure the beetle eyes dissolved fully before handing it to Hermione. “Thank you,” she said, dropping the lionfish spine in and then following it up with the mixture. The potion changed from a sickly green color to a burnt orange.

Hermione was counting the number of clockwise stirs when a loud bang from Seamus and Ernie made her jump and lose count. “Bugger,” she muttered. “Do you know how many that was?”

Malfoy replied sounding bored, “Seventeen, to be exact. You’ve got thirty-one left, and then I’ll put in the two Billywig stings and you’ll stir counterclockwise twelve times and then the potion should be finished.”

“Great, thanks,” her voice laced with sarcasm. They fell into silence then, each of them counting the stirs and ignoring the rest of the class, focusing on the potion. When it was time, Malfoy dropped the Billywig stings in, turning the potion a dark burgundy. Hermione stirred it twelve times counterclockwise and it settled as a rich amethyst color. She checked her textbook to make sure it was the right color and smiled when it was.

A loud hissing sound filled the classroom, this time coming from Ron and Susan’s direction. Hermione and Malfoy turned to look at them, along with the rest of the class. Ron’s cauldron was melting, their hate potion clearly brewed incorrectly. Mandy was beginning to raise her hand to call Professor Imohera over, but he was already on his way, his robes billowing behind him.

“Mr. Weasley, Miss Bones, if the two of you would so kindly step away from your cauldron, please,” Professor Imohera instructed as he began waving his wand in a complex pattern and muttering an incantation too quiet for anyone to hear even in the immediate vicinity. Slowly, the potion began siphoning into his wand until it was completely gone, and all that remained was a twisted, goopy cauldron. “I trust you to repair your cauldron, Mr. Weasley. Carry on, everyone!”

Ron and Susan quickly began fixing the cauldron with several strong mending charms until it looked just a little more the worse for wear. They then started the potion over, Susan taking more control over what was going into the cauldron this time in order to ensure it didn’t melt again. Hermione raised her hand to get Professor Imohera’s attention before he got too involved helping some of the other students.

“Yes, Miss Granger? Ah, you’ve completed your potion successfully. Brilliant! You can just leave it there and I will collect it for you. An essay about the effects the hate potion can have on wartime is due on Thursday. You and Mr. Malfoy are free to go for the rest of the period once you’ve cleaned up,” Professor Imohera said with cheer.

The two of them stuffed their copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_ into their bags and returned the leftover ingredients—that weren’t part of their potion kits—to the shelves. They walked out in stony silence, refusing to speak to each other until it was necessary.

Professor Imohera busied himself with collecting their potion into vials and marking them before sending them off to storage for inspection later. He levitated the now-empty cauldron back to the cabinet and proceeded his rounds around the classroom, cleaning up wrongly brewed potions and giving out helpful hints every so often as the rest of the class either began their second try at the potion or finishing up their first.

~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

“Well, I’ve got Care of Magical Creatures after this so I guess I’ll see you in War and Peace,” I said awkwardly.

“I’m teaching the Slytherin and Hufflepuff fourth years with Dean this morning, so I’ll let you know how that goes with them,” Malfoy replied stiffly, clearly as uncomfortable with the forced conversation as I was.

“Right then. I’ll just be going now,” I rushed the words out as I walked with great speed away from the dungeons and Potions classroom and towards the grounds to Hagrid’s hut. I had no clue why I’d attempted at making conversation with him when he obviously didn’t want to talk to me anymore than necessary. If he didn’t warm up soon, I was going to have a discussion with Professor McGonagall about it.

~*~*~ **Wednesday** ~*~*~

Malfoy and I avoided each other like the plague for the rest of Monday and all of Tuesday. I saw him only during classes and rarely at mealtimes. We spoke very little while teaching, even, preferring to just let the class discuss things for the majority of the time. I figured he’d resorted to spending a lot of his free time in the underground courtyard in an effort to stay away from me. For some reason though, I actually sort of missed our arguments over stupid things. However, I wasn’t going to push anything; it was up to him to start talking to me again if he wanted my help in restoring his credibility.

At breakfast this morning, I caught Theodore Nott looking at me again. He’d recently begun doing it in the middle of class, prefect meetings, and mealtimes. It was starting to creep me out, but I didn’t tell Harry or Ron because I knew they would cause a scene, and I didn’t want that to happen. Instead, I chose to glare back at him, willing him to back down. He finally blinked and turned away, causing a smile to flash on my face in victory.

The Patil twins and I walked to Advanced Transfiguration together, discussing the merits of the new professor and how much we liked her. Last week she’d had us review everything we’d done in fifth and sixth year, just to see where we were at and what the next step for us would be. As the rest of the small class filtered in—there were only ten of us—the buzz of excitement filled the air. Malfoy, Blaise, and Theodore all looked rather sulkily, but everyone else seemed happy enough.

Professor Tawley strode in just then, her ruby robes flowing around her as she came to a stop in the front of the classroom. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. I just got out of a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall concerning your class,” she said airily, adjusting her fashionable black and red glasses on her nose. “Considering how exceptionally well all of you did over the past two review days, she has given me permission to take your learning to the very next level.”

“How many of you would like to become Animagi?” she asked, grinning broadly as everyone’s hands shot up into the air. “Wonderful! Now, how many registered Animagi are there currently?”

My hand went straight back up into the air. “Seven, Professor.”

“That is correct, Miss Granger. Professor McGonagall is one of those registered. I am also one of those registered Animagi, which is why she is allowing me to teach you how to become Animagi and register each of you in the spring. Would you like to see what I turn into?” Professor Tawley said, her tone hopeful.

All of us nodded excitedly. “I haven’t done this in a few months, so I apologize if this takes a little longer than usual,” she forewarned. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before bending down, and suddenly she had transformed into a Eurasian lynx. She had rich, reddish brown fur and faint spots all over, with dark brown—almost black—markings around her eyes like she was still wearing her glasses. Her ears had small tufts of black fur at the point that stuck straight up. She stood about two feet tall at the shoulder, from my estimate.

It was brilliant, and I was clearly not the only one who thought so. As the rest of the class began clapping, I joined in and smiled widely, more excited than ever to begin learning how to become an Animagus. Professor Tawley quickly changed back into her human form and did a little curtsy, which got chuckles and giggles out of most of us.

“Please, it’s not really that exciting at all. It’s more of an annoying itching sensation while changing and you get a bit mixed about once you change into it or out of it for a minute or two,” she said, bashful.

“Now, first things first,” Professor Tawley’s demeanor instantly changed back into her teaching stoicism. “The hard part is not going to be teaching you the technique of turning into your Animagus form. The hard part is going to be looking inside yourself and decide what fits you best in your soul and putting that into an animal form. This is going to be a very tough and grueling process, and there are a multitude of things that could go awry with this. Are all of you sure you still want to do this?”

Solemnly, I nodded my head and noticed the other nine students did as well, if a bit slower than I had. She looked at each of us determinedly; I stared back at her with equal verve. She nodded in confirmation of our desire to continue with this and adjusted her glasses subconsciously. 

“Very well, let’s begin! Obviously, the most important part of becoming an Animagus is the belief that you can transform yourself into another form, completely. You have done some work with partial human transformations, but that is just a minor part of becoming an Animagus. Being an Animagus means you can transform into a certain creature at any time you so choose, and having the relative abilities of that creature. It takes lots and lots of hard work, sweat, tears, and sometimes blood. There is a reason there are only seven registered Animagi from this century. The legal process, along with the physical process, can be arduous and time-draining for even the best witches and wizards,” Professor Tawley lectured, bullet points appearing on the board behind her as she spoke.

I furiously began taking notes of her lecture, my quill scratching the parchment as I absorbed every word she said. The rest of class followed my lead and began taking notes as well while Professor Tawley continued speaking.

“The creature you choose to transform yourself into, magical or otherwise, says something about you as a person. For example, Professor McGonagall is a tabby cat because she values companionship and has very sharp wit and intellect. I chose to be a lynx because I’m a big risk taker when it comes to wanting something bigger than I’m accustomed to, and also because I care greatly about all of my students.”

“So as you can see, what creature you choose to transform into really does define who you are as a person. Unfortunately, we are at the end of our time for today. Your assignment for next Friday is to begin compiling a list of your good and bad traits. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. You might be surprised at what you’ll come up with. Class dismissed!” Professor Tawley said rapidly.

The ten of us finished scribbling the last bit of notes before packing up our bags slowly, not in any hurry to get to History of Magic. No matter how much I loved history, Professor Binns sometimes bored me to death. And, what with the prospect of learning how to become an Animagus during Transfiguration, this class was going to take forever. I walked towards the doorway, one hand on the strap of my book bag and about to exit when Malfoy rudely shouldered past me and out the door. My mouth opened and closed a few times and I just stood in place, deciding to leave it for later and just go to class.

I couldn’t wait to tell Harry and Ron the news. 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrepidity and Introspection

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

After the Prefect meeting ended, I went to the seventh year common room to talk to Harry and Ron. As I stepped through the portrait hole, the buzz of conversation struck my ears. 

“Hey, ‘Mione!” Harry greeted me as I entered his field of vision.

“Hey Hermione!” Ron added cheerily.

“Hi guys!” I responded with enthusiasm, pulling them into a quick, tight hug. “I have something exciting to tell you about!”

“What is it?” questioned Ron.   
  
I looked around, realizing that anyone not in the Advanced Transfiguration class that would get upset about it probably should not hear what I was telling Harry and Ron. “Not here, let’s go to my room instead,” I said as I glanced around the common room at its other inhabitants.

A few minutes later found the three of us sitting cross-legged on my four-poster bed with the door shut. My leg was bouncing up and down so badly the bed was shaking slightly.   
  
“So, what is so important and exciting you have to tell us in secret?” Harry prodded my knee.

“Oh, right! Well in Transfiguration this morning, Professor Tawley has decided that because the ten of us in the advanced class are extremely proficient at everything we were previously taught, she’s teaching us how to become Animagi! And she got Professor McGonagall’s approval!” I announced, a huge smile across my face.

“Wow that’s amazing, ‘Mione!” Harry and Ron said in unison.

“What do you think you want to transform into?” asked Harry. “Probably an otter, like your patronus?”

I shook my head. “No. First of all, that’s not practical, and secondly, I don’t think that fully represents me as a person anymore. I’ll have to think about all the aspects of my personality before I can decide on a creature. It’s going to be a very difficult process, but as long as I have you two by my side I know I can do it!” I exclaimed, patting each of their knees and smiling at them.

Harry returned my smile instantly but a look of befuddlement passed across Ron’s face before he smiled back at me as well.

“So,” I angled my upper body towards Ron, “how have things been with you, Ron? I haven’t had a chance to talk to you lately, what with classes and Head duties keeping me so busy.”

Ron shifted on the bed and leaned back against the bedpost. “Things have been all right, I guess. Harry and I are getting ready for Quidditch tryouts in a couple of weeks, and Ginny’s turning into a right monster about all of it. I’m glad she’s taking it all out on you and not me, Harry. My sister can be a bloody demon when she wants to be,” he chuckled.

“Speaking of your sister, I’m supposed to meet her at Gryffindor tower in a few minutes to talk about some things, so I’ll see you both later. ‘Mione, you know if you need help or someone to punch Malfoy for you, you know where to find me,” Harry said out of the blue. “See you both later,” he slid off my bed and opened the door to leave.

“Bye, Harry!” I called out as he walked out of my bedroom and down to the portrait hole. I didn’t know what to say next so I fell silent. Crookshanks decided to join us on my bed then, hopping up and walking onto my lap and plopping down right there. I let out an “Oof,” as he put his full weight on me; I had forgotten how fat he’d gotten from all the mice he’d eaten over the summer.

Ron laughed and said, “That menace got fat over the summer, didn’t he? I bet he could still eat Pigwidgeon if he tried hard enough.”

“I’m sure he could,” I laughed, scratching Crookshanks behind his ears, his favorite place. Our laughter died down and an awkward silence arose between us.

“Listen, Hermione,” Ron interjected, “there’s something I need to tell you.” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed and began twisting his hands. Ron’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he attempted to develop what he wanted to say.

“Oh, just spit it out, will you?” I burst out, a worrying inkling of what he was going to say already in the forefront of my mind.

He chuckled once before clearing his throat. “Hermione, I know things weren’t really working out for us this summer, but I, uh, just wanted to tell you that I’m, uh, always here for you in case you ever need anything or someone to talk to or need a shoulder to cry on,” he said quietly.

I bit my lip because I knew that was exactly what he was going to say, but I still didn’t know what to say in response.

“I also wanted to tell you that I’m, um, also going to ask Mandy to the next Hogsmeade trip. Just so you aren’t worried about any, er, feelings you think I might have for you still,” Ron continued.

A weight lifted from my chest and my heart soared at this information. “That’s great, Ron!” I forced a smile and touched his knee, hiding my relief at his loss of romantic interest in me. “Come on, I’ll let you get back to Mandy now.”

I jumped off my bed and pulled Ron with me, amidst his statements that I didn’t need to make him go and that he didn’t mind talking to me a while longer, but I insisted on sending him back to the seventh years’ dormitory to talk to Mandy. In all honesty, my pushing him out of the door was mostly just so I could be alone to organize and compartmentalize my thoughts about Ron and all that our past entailed.

After the portrait closed behind him, I padded over to what I had claimed as my chair and tucked my feet under me, staring into the fire pensively. What I had suspected to be an admission of lingering romantic feelings for me instead turned into a release for both of us, and it made me somewhat uncomfortable. I couldn’t figure out why Ron had added in the bit about asking Mandy to Hogsmeade, unless it was simply to reassure me he was actually going through with his word and moving on from our poor attempt at being a couple. I pondered it for a moment longer before stowing it away and focusing on what his letting go meant for me. It was almost like he was giving me permission to move on as well and form relationships with whomever I so chose. Well, perhaps not just anyone; he’d most definitely be against Malfoy and any of the Slytherins, and probably even Dean, but none of them were even my type. _Did I even have a type?_

Before I could even come up with a semi-plausible answer to the question, the sound of the portrait opening and an angry voice snapping at Merlin caught my attention. Even though it had been well over a month since term started, I continually forgot I had to live with Malfoy. He stomped into the common area, his hair disheveled and his robes in disarray.

“Everything alright?” I queried, unsure of his mood.

“What the bloody hell do you think, Granger?” Malfoy retorted. “Half the bloody school thinks it was me that caused that staircase to collapse, even though I wasn’t at the bloody scene when it happened! I just got back from a meeting with McGonagall about it!”

“Well you don’t have to take it out on me!” I said, indignant.

“Maybe if you weren’t such an annoying and bossy person to live with, I wouldn’t have to!” he shouted, coming to a stop behind the couch.

I rose from my seat, not wanting his height to overpower me so much. “I’m the annoying one? Maybe if you stopped taking a piss at three in the morning every night I wouldn’t be so exhausted and snappy with you!” I seethed, anger coursing through my veins.

“Oh, I’m sorry I have to bloody piss at night, Granger! Not all of us have our day planned out to the last bloody minute like you do!” he clenched his fists at his sides.

I stepped around the couch so we were on opposing ends of it and glared at him. “I don’t give a damn what you think of me, Malfoy! All I want is you to stop treating me like I’m beneath you!”

“I’m sorry if I’m stressed out about all of this because coming back here was part of my bloody sentence, all right? I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to become Head Boy! I didn’t ask for you not to remember what happened during the Battle of Hogwarts!” he took two steps forward, halving the distance between us.

“You keep bringing that up so I’ll help you, but where were you when I was being _tortured_ on your drawing room floor by your aunt? Why didn’t you help me then, you coward?” I countered, moving my own feet forward so we were inches apart.

“I did what I had to survive! If I had intervened, I would have been killed on the spot and so would the rest of you! I saved your bloody life by not doing anything, and I saved it again by stepping in when it was safer to do so! You wouldn’t bloody be alive right now if I hadn’t done what I did!” Malfoy answered coarsely.

I couldn’t come up with a good answer to that, so I stood there fuming, fiercely glaring into his steel grey eyes, a burning passion in me I couldn’t comprehend. Both of us breathed heavily but didn’t break eye contact. His hands found my hair and ripped me to him, crushing my lips to his with unbridled anger.

Our searing kiss abruptly ended with a tear and none-too-gentle push from him as he stalked off to his room, slamming the door behind him. My fingers ghosted over my tender lips, noting the dotting of blood where his teeth had marked me, still not completely sure that had just happened even with the physical evidence he left behind.

~*~*~*~Sunday morning~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

A pounding headache and nauseous stomach greeted me the minute I sat up in my bed. Groaning, I laid back down and decided to wait the nausea out long enough to make it down to the Great Hall for breakfast. With nothing to do until I felt better, I did the only thing I could—I thought.

After Granger and I’s brash fight, communication was nonexistent, much like both of our presences in the same room alone for more than ten seconds. The unexpected kiss was still too fresh, too unbelievable to move past quite yet. War and Peace became almost unbearable for us and for our students when direct interaction was required. I didn’t even know what had possessed me to do it. Perhaps it was the lack of positive human contact over the last few months and I needed confirmation this was reality and not a dream; maybe it was validation for something my brain refused to let me see; perhaps it was nothing, just occurred out of passion and anger.

As long as that filthy Skeeter didn’t write another blasphemous article about us, everything would be fine. Conversations with peers remained purely educational or colloquial. Blaise noticed the tension between Granger and I and offered up his time if I so wished to discuss the situation, but I politely declined. Not to mention, we still had to finish planning the charity ball with the Prefects, and it was two months out. And to only add to the stress, everyone still blamed the collapsing staircase on me, even though it clearly wasn’t me considering I wasn’t even close to the area when it fell. Now that Professor Tawley wanted us to become Animagi that was another thing for me to worry about.

 _Bugger!_ I knew I’d forgotten something important when doing my classwork last night. Professor Tawley’s assignment to make a list of all of the qualities we possessed made my head throb more painfully and a wave of discomfort to hit my stomach. I didn’t want to think about my character in a regular setting, much less have to analyze it for an assignment. Rolling over, I pawed at the nightstand until my fingers grazed the smooth wood of my wand.

“Lumos,” I muttered, waving my wand at the lamp in the corner of my room. “Starry.” With a head splitting crack the small House elf appeared by my dresser.

She bowed low before speaking. “What does Mister Draco need of Starry, sir?”

“Could you get me something to make a headache and nausea go away, please?” she nodded and was about to snap her fingers when I added, “And check to see if Granger has left her room yet too.”

Starry nodded before disapparating and returning less than a minute later with a steaming cup of what looked to be an Invigorating Draught mixed with Pepperup Potion and something I couldn’t identify. I propped myself halfway up my pillows to drink it. After handing it to me, she snapped her fingers. Expecting her to disappear, I was instead surprised to watch the contents of the cup cool to a drinkable temperature.

“Starry saw that Miss Hermione had already gone down to breakfast. Would Mister Draco like Starry to bring him some toast with jam and eggs? It is no trouble to Starry,” the House elf assured me, a beaming smile on her face.

I downed the drink in one fell swoop, coughing roughly after it went down. The potion’s effects left me feeling much less sickly and much more chipper; a mood I was not accustomed to as of late, but it didn’t matter because my headache and nausea were gone. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. You may go,” I politely told Starry.

She bowed low once more before disapparating back to the kitchens. Now that I was feeling invigorated I figured I would go down to the Great Hall and snag an apple and some toast before retreating to the courtyard for the rest of the day to begin working on our assignment for Transfiguration, all while doing my best avoiding Granger.

Scanning the Great Hall as I entered, Granger was nowhere to be found, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I sat down at the end of the Slytherin table, grabbing a green apple and three slices of buttered toast. However, just because she wasn’t here didn’t mean dirty looks weren’t thrown my way by nearly every other student in the room. I hunched lower in my seat and finished my breakfast in a hurry, not wanting to wait for someone to start something they really would not want to finish.

I escaped to the hidden courtyard, making sure no one followed me on the way down. Twinkling lights floated around me the moment my foot touched the luminescent lichen, and my mood improved in an instant. Coming here allowed me to release all of my pent-up emotions unfit for public viewing. It was a trick my father taught me when I was very young: only show people the emotions they want to see, and feel everything else later. Show them what they want, and they would think nothing else of your reaction; compartmentalize, or die. But now that I was alone, I let my frustration and fear and confusion course through me. I punched the wall without noticing the magic graffiti that sprung from the point of contact. I transfigured one of the polished stone slabs into a pile of sand, which I kicked and magically flung across the room until sand particles covered nearly every surface.

My body came to a halt and my breath hitched in my throat. How could Professor Tawley assign me to decide what kind of animal I wanted to change into if I could barely control my emotions, let alone pick through my memories? Sitting heavily on a mossy knoll near the far wall, I quickly transfigured the sand back into the stone slab and concentrated on slowing my breathing. I summoned my schoolbag from the entrance and pulled some parchment, a quill, and an inkpot out.

Now came the hard part.

I leaned back and closed my eyes; my hand prepped to write of its own accord once my qualities began showing themselves in my memories. With my outer Occlumency walls still held firmly in place, I lowered the internal barriers I had placed around the particularly bad memories I had hoped never to revisit. I winced slightly as the constant pain and fear of the past eighteen months barraged me all at once with flashes of tortures I witnessed in the Manor interspersed with the hidden discussions with mother and the final battle.

As if the courtyard could sense my mental turmoil, the light dimmed and background noise quieted. Twinkling lights settled on different points of my body; I could only assume they had some sort of sentience and were trying to comfort me in the only way they knew how. Once the initial surge of memories began to trickle into a stream, my hand began writing. I didn’t allow myself to linger on the memories—I knew if I lingered on a few I wouldn’t be able to complete the process. After a while it almost felt cathartic to relive some of the events from my childhood and early years at Hogwarts.

I was just finishing replaying a memory of my father and I playing with a conjured baby dragon when the memory of Granger’s torture in the drawing room of the Manor slammed into the current memory my whole body jolted. In my mind I was frozen as I watched yet again how Bellatrix tore into her arm with that cruel blade of hers; watched as Hermione’s eyes flitted to me, begging me to help in any way possible; watched as I did nothing and kept a stoic face because I knew all would be lost if I allowed myself to help the girl in front of me. As her screams faded away with the remains of the memory, I opened my eyes to see what I had written. 

INTELLIGENT

RESOURCEFUL

ARROGANT

PRIDEFUL

AMBITIOUS

CUNNING

CARING

DISTRUSTFUL

INCOMPETENT

WEAK

FAILURE

UNFORGIVABLE

IMMORAL

DISGRACED

LOYAL

The words were haphazard and scrawled at all sorts of angles on the parchment. “Failure” was repeated several times I noticed, my heart falling at how apparent my attempts to correct my mistakes didn’t work. The few redeeming qualities I seemed to think I possessed could never outweigh the bad ones. This realization led me to the conclusion that I needed to talk with someone outside my immediate sphere of influence to determine more abstract qualities without judging my past too harshly. _Granger._ She would know exactly what I was like.

I packed up my things and left the courtyard, determined to find the one person I could actually trust.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

I slipped out of our dormitory as quietly as possible, afraid of waking my roommate and feeling my utter inability to read him. When I reached the Great Hall to find it empty, I checked my watch and saw it was just past seven thirty. Sighing, I debated the merits of going all the way to the kitchens for a meal or summoning Starry to bring breakfast while walking towards the Gryffindor table and taking my usual seat about halfway down and facing the far side of the Hall. Much to my surprise, a steaming plate filled with toast, pancakes, and scrambled eggs appeared, along with a goblet of orange juice.

A smile broke out across my lips; I couldn’t help but love the Hogwarts House elves even more than I already did. Even though breakfast didn’t officially begin until nine, they were still willing to make a dish for a single student to ensure they ate at least once that day. I wolfed down the pancakes and nearly burned my tongue in the process, but I didn’t care. Today was the day I had to do some serious soul searching, and I needed as much time as possible to do that. Moving onto the eggs and toast next, I punctuated bites of each with a sip of orange juice until the plate was scraped clean. Living on plants and poorly made soup for months makes a person appreciate the simpler things in life like a hot, fulfilling, and satisfying meal.

Finished eating, I rose and left the empty Great Hall, making my way towards the library. The quiet of the castle this early in the morning on the weekends was something I always enjoyed being awake for. No one was around to disturb the peace and tranquility of morning and I relished in being able to lose myself in my thoughts, muscle memory leading me to my hidden corner behind the muggle bookshelf in the library.

Without emerging from my thoughts, I set up basic wards around my area and pulled a piece of parchment and self-inking quill from my book bag and set them on the table in front of me. Before I delved into my memories, I thought of the qualities I already could pick out about myself and wrote them down on the left side of the page. With my quill poised on the right side, I succumbed to the memories beckoning my presence.

What felt like days but turned out to be just barely over two hours left me exhausted. Completing the sort of introspection Professor Tawley had instructed us to do was fatiguing work. I checked my list to see what I’d added while looking back at my memories. I frowned at several of them, upset that my mind had made me think such things of myself. Unable to bear it any longer, I folded the parchment up and shoved it into my bag, needing an outside opinion from someone I could trust not to sugar coat my qualities. I lowered my wards and set out to find Malfoy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it for now, folks! Next chapter will have them in a Transfiguration lesson where I will reveal the Animagus forms they all choose. Also, our mysterious bad guy comes back with something surely to shake the already rocky partnership between Draco and Hermione. As always, reviews are very much appreciated—let me know if there’s any holes in the plot or what you liked/didn’t like—it helps me carve the story out that much better!
> 
> ~Madi x


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

With some semblance of luck, I managed to run into Granger by the tapestry hiding the courtyard entrance. 

“I’m assuming you’re here to confirm your own introspective thoughts about yourself for Tawley’s assignment,” I drawled, my suspicions confirmed with her firm nod. “Would you, er, mind looking mine over?”

Surprise flitted across her face. “Um, sure. I was actually coming to look for you, just so you know,” she fiddled with a small hole in her robe. “I trust you enough to be truthful about my qualities and not to sugar-coat your opinions either.”

I nodded in agreement and lifted the tapestry, motioning her through to the not-yet-sealed doorway. She clutched her books to her chest tighter before ducking under my outstretched arm and down the steps to the courtyard. The tapestry slipped through my fingers as I returned to my place of introspection and prepared to open my mind and soul to a perplexing girl I had yet to determine how to handle.

~*~*~*~

I entered the lower entrance and saw Granger lounged somewhat uneasily on a moss-covered boulder in a natural interpretation of an armchair. Parchment and quill lay on her lap, and she had a finger continuously twirling a strand of hair, a tell I’d picked up on earlier in the term when she was most nervous. As I observed her from my position in the doorway, I was struck with the notion that her being her was a feat of magnitude on its own.

Both of us knew we wouldn’t be here together and alone if we trusted anyone else to do this properly and without friendship or emotions interfering with true judgment. I placed my bag down carefully on the ground by hers and settled onto the mossy boulder that had magically moved next to hers with my crumpled list in hand. Twinkling lights perched around us on any open space, several weaving into strands of Granger’s hair.

“So,” I said, unable to smirk briefly when she jumped, “what is the best way for us to get through this with minimal suffering?”

Granger giggled a little and visibly relaxed, making me relax my muscles as well. “Trade parchments and add comments?” she suggested.

“Sounds perfectly well to me,” I concluded, offering her my parchment.

She took it carefully, like it was a precious artifact, before handing hers to me with equal caution. Graffiti on the far wall from my earlier punch caught my eye—the words pain, regret, and conflicted scrawled their way across in elegant script before fading from sight. I blinked twice before remembering the parchment in my hand.

This little piece of parchment suddenly felt much heavier as I peeked at Granger and saw her expression. I unfolded the parchment and studied what she came up with. Many of them matched immediately with what I knew of her character, but I was perplexed at some of the words she had written.

CLEVER

INTELLIGENT

UGLY

WEAK

CARING

BRAVE

CAUTIOUS

AMBITIOUS

IMPURE

ANXIOUS

LOYAL

STRONG

INCOMPETENT

INSUFFERABLE

SUCCESSFUL

Her parchment was the opposite of mine—every single letter written with militaristic precision and in a single, tidy column. While the layout screamed Hermione, the words on the page did not describe the woman that was sat next to me. As I turned to look at her, instead of seeing her in profile, I caught her sorrow-filled eyes with mine.

Before I could speak, she moved, dropping my parchment on the ground and leaning over to wrap her arms around my neck. “Oh, Draco. You don’t deserve to have all of this pain. It’s not fair,” she whispered against my neck.

With slow, deliberate movements I loosely wrapped my arms around her waist and replied, “My dear Hermione, you don’t know what I do or don’t deserve when it comes to pain. I do know that you do not deserve the mental beatings you put yourself through.”

Her sharp intake of breath spread goosebumps through my chest and arms. I felt a teardrop on my neck, and then another. My heart lurched—this would be the point at which we either reached a greater understanding or everything fell apart—whatever way I responded to her tears.

I pulled her closer to me and held her tightly, fighting to hold my composure. “You don’t have to do this alone, Hermione,” I murmured, my stomach twisting at the way her name rolled off my tongue.

She hugged me tighter still; the tears began to soak into my sweater as her sniffling turned into crying. The boulders merged into one larger one, and the twinkly lights came closer, floating around us and emitting dim glows. I dared move one hand to the back of her neck. When she didn’t freeze up, I gently weaved my fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp.

We stayed like that for a long while, both of us bared to the soul even though we couldn’t see the memories that made us write those words down on the page. It was enough to know how badly we misjudged each other simply because we had drastically different backgrounds and fought on differing sides of the war. We knew that those actions were done for a reason that was out of our control and all of it was survival.

Finally, she pulled back, unwinding her arms from around my neck to wipe her face. I kept my arms around her waist because letting go now felt wrong. She shifted into a full sitting position that put us at eye-level to each other.

Wiping once more at her eyes, Hermione cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what I should say to you,” she said softly, her thumbs fidgeting in her lap. “I’m really sorry for crying all over you and getting your shirt wet.”

She looked down, unable to meet my gaze. Releasing her waist, I gently set one of my hands on top of hers to pause her fidgeting. That wasn’t enough to make her look up, so I placed my index finger and thumb under her chin and slowly lifted her head. I stared into her beautiful brown eyes and let what little remained of my mask dissolve and bared my emotions. Her hand came up to cup my cheek, and I leaned into it, missing the warmth of my mother’s hand. Tears welled in my eyes, yet they refused to fall as I looked into hers and she looked back into mine.

“You don’t have to do this alone either, Draco,” Hermione whispered, clutching my shirt with her other hand.

Her affirmation created a new bond between us: a bond not of dislike and incomprehensibility, but one of understanding and emotional strength.

The twinkly lights brightened and moved at a languid pace around the courtyard, aware of the change in relationship between the two of us. The two who previously had no understanding of why things happened the way they did during the war, but now knew why they did and how it made us vulnerable in different ways and was able to bring us together.

**~*~*~*~Friday Morning, Breakfast~*~*~*~**

Hermione had a full plate of toast, eggs, and bacon in front of her, but she barely nibbled on a triangle of toast before setting it back down. The goblet of orange juice was half full; she didn’t touch anything else on her plate and pulled out a book instead.

Harry noticed this and quietly asked, “Is everything alright, ‘Mione? I haven’t seen you hardly at all this week.”

“I’m fine, Harry, but thank you for your concern. I’m just worried about the assignment Professor Tawley gave to us. We find out today what we’ll be changing into,” her voice not betraying her.

He nodded and gave her hand a squeeze before returning to his breakfast. Ginny walked up then and sat next to him, absorbing his attention. Hermione looked further down the table to see Mandy Brocklehurst talking quietly with Ron, who for once wasn’t just stuffing his face, and she smiled. Ron deserved someone who actually liked his jokes and could better handle his occasional inability to read the situation correctly.

Across the hall at the Slytherin table, Draco was dealing with a similar loss of appetite to Hermione. Partially due to anxiety about finding out the creature he would be turning into, and partially to his still unknown feelings towards Hermione. Blaise put another helping of eggs onto his plate and saw that Draco had only eaten three bites of bacon from his plate.

“Mate, what’s going on? You haven’t eaten anything,” Blaise asked.

“It’s nothing. I’m just not hungry this morning,” Draco replied.

“Okay, fine. Did you make your list for Transfiguration?” Blaise queried, a glint in his eye.

Draco clenched his jaw before answering, “Yes, I made my bloody list. Will you let me sit in peace now?”

Blaise held his hands up in surrender and returned to his meal and started a quiet conversation with Theo across the table. Draco looked back down at his food and then pushed his plate away in disgust.

He couldn’t get Sunday out of his head for any decent length of time. After they’d calmed down and were sitting in comfortable silence, she’d gone and kissed him on the cheek and left without so much as a single word. It was such a stark contrast to the rough and angry kiss they’d shared previously that he didn’t know how to handle the difference between the two versions of her. He had plenty of experience with girls and yet Hermione was the great confounding one in his life—how cliché. No, he determined the reason he was having trouble with her was because he was having trouble with himself. Yes, that was definitely the problem here, but once he found out his Animagus form, he would be fine and he wouldn’t have to question every move he made around Hermione.

~*~*~*~

“Everyone to their seats, please and thank you!” Professor Tawley declared as she came into the room, laden with books and loose pieces of parchment in her arms.

The class scrambled to their seats, each as anxious as their neighbor about finding out their Animagus form.

Once she had everything on her desk, Professor Tawley straightened up and faced the class. “Now, I’m sure all of you want to know what your Animagus forms will be, but we can’t all go at once, nor will I subject your private thoughts to be told to the entire class. Instead, you will come into my office one by one with your lists and we will discuss what your form should be together. While that happens, the rest of you will practice transfiguring these mice into spectacles. Any questions?”

The room was silent, but many legs were bouncing in anticipation.

“Good. Get to work. Up first with me is Mr. Boot,” she flicked her wand and a cage with ten mice appeared on the front desk.

Terry Boot rose from his seat, folded parchment clutched tightly in his fist, and followed Professor Tawley into her office.

The rest of the class accioed mice to their respective tables and diligently began working on their assigned task. All of them also kept their ears attuned to the closed door leading to Professor Tawley’s office. Nothing could be heard at all, not even the scrape of chairs being pulled out or the rustle of parchment from the office. Clearly a Muffliato had been cast on the office for complete privacy, but the students didn’t grumble much, knowing it was in their best interests as well to respect everyone else’s privacy.

Professor Tawley’s office door slowly creaked open not five minutes later, and out came Terry with a content expression on his face. “Miss Brocklehurst,” Professor Tawley called from inside her office. Mandy stood and handed Terry her mouse.

Next was Michael Corner, followed by Anthony Goldstein, and then it was Hermione’s turn. Draco’s eyes didn’t leave her back until the door was firmly closed behind her. He returned to his task, changing the mouse into spectacles and back again, doing his best to compartmentalize his thoughts.

~*~*~*~

“Now, Miss Granger, I have heard very promising things about you from all of your professors, but Professor McGonagall most highly praised your skill with Transfiguration,” she paused, smiling. “Due to this, I have great confidence in your abilities to become an Animagus. May I see your list, please?”

Hermione handed over her list and looked down at her lap, twisting her fingers around and around it was a wonder they didn’t break. Professor Tawley looked it over for several minutes before scribbling on her own bit of parchment; multiple times she looked up and scrutinized Hermione’s face for several seconds before returning to the parchment. She tapped her quill against her cheek in deep thought as she glanced between Hermione’s list and her personal notes. After another moment of tense silence, she put her quill down and gave Hermione an encouraging grin.

“Well, from what I have gathered from your personal list, my knowledge of your personality, and the information I have from the other professors and several of your peers, I believe you are quite ready to become an Animagus. Also, you are rather similar in manner and mind to your former head of house,” Professor Tawley smiled again, her eyes twinkling. “With that in mind, I think that a cat in some form would suit you nicely. Perhaps a Norwegian forest cat, as they are very elegant and intelligent and can adapt very well to different situations, and are rumored to have a bit of magic in them. You don’t have to choose this specific creature right now, or at all. This is simply my informed suggestion to help guide you on this journey. Any questions for me right now?”

Hermione exhaled and relaxed her hands. “None at all, Professor, thank you. I will do some research in the library and decide later. Thank you,” she rose from her seat and took her list from Professor Tawley’s outstretched hand and returned her small smile before exiting the office.

She walked back to her seat, her shoulders rolled back and visibly relaxed. “Your turn, Malfoy,” Hermione said, nicking his transfigured eyeglasses from his desk edge in response to the raised brow she received from him.

Draco languidly stood and gracefully walked through the open door with his parchment loose in one hand and his other hand in a white-knuckled fist only visible to Hermione and Theo. The resounding thud of the door closing behind him reassured him he could relax and truly reveal himself to Professor Tawley. He handed her his list and waited with ankle on knee. His fingers tapping out a random rhythm on his ankle gave away his anxiety, however, which only made him more nervous.

Professor Tawley frowned as she read through his list and began making notes on a fresh piece of parchment, just as she’d done with the previous students. _It is not right for a young man to have to go through so much pain and evil just because he wanted to save his family,_ she reflected, pulling memories of conversations with Dumbledore and Snape’s portraits, along with other professors who had a relatively intimate knowledge of the Malfoy heir sitting in front of her. She was fully aware of how his academic skill matched that of Miss Granger’s, and how that reflected on his behavior. With one last note, she searched the library of creatures—magical and non-magical—residing in her mind before settling on the one she knew would both startle and intrigue him.

“Mr. Malfoy. You have had experiences many of us can only imagine; you’ve overcome fear and scrutiny so powerful that most others wilted under it; you came to see the errors in your upbringing and did not hold it against anyone, yet still manage to exude an air of polite indifference in all of your classes except for mine and Professor Slughorn’s. You were obviously willing to become a student teacher yourself in order to teach others the problems with raising children to judge and exclude. Why is it then that you only see corruption in yourself?” Professor Tawley’s voice rang loudly in the small office.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t know what my purpose is anymore, Professor,” Draco replied monotonously.

Her face fell at his admission, but she powered on anyway, knowing he needed something positive to keep him afloat. “I don’t know about that, Mr. Malfoy, but I do believe I’ve assigned you to become an Animagus, yes? Then I suppose it’s best you do some research on the red fox then, isn’t it? Snape told me of your incredible skill with your mind and I believe that the red fox suits you. If, of course, you feel it does not, please know that you can choose a different creature; I am merely giving you an informed suggestion. Thank you for enrolling in this class—I think there is potential for good in you yet, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco simply nodded his head and accepted his list back before reassembling his bored manner and returning to the classroom. Theo was next to go, then Padma and Parvati, and lastly Blaise. The next four went in quick succession so that Professor Tawley was back in the classroom to dismiss them to next period in no more than twenty-five minutes.

It was a wonder they made it to History of Magic on time as all of them were deep in thought about the creatures suggested to them, Draco so much so that it took Theo slapping his shoulder to break him free of this thoughts so they could go to class. Hermione shot a concerned glance his way but he gave her an ice-cold glare as a warning. She clutched her books tighter to her chest and stalked out of the classroom with Mandy in tow, making Draco smirk in victory. Both of them were itching to get through History of Magic so they could eat lunch and have time to think about their potential new Animagus forms in privacy.

Neither of them could have foreseen the terror and uncertainty they’d be feeling in thirty-six hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s about to get crazy in here! What do you guys think of my choices for their Animagus forms? I’ll put up a complete list of the whole class on my hpff tumblr (madimalfoyhpff.tumblr.com) if you want to check it out there! Next chapter should be up in a couple of weeks (for real this time!).  
> ~Madi x


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trials and Tribulations

In hindsight, perhaps it would have been better if they had chosen a room more easily accessible in case they were needed. In hindsight, perhaps it would have ended differently if he’d kept his shields up. In hindsight, perhaps it would have ended sooner if they’d had their wands within reach. In hindsight, if they had been quicker, perhaps no one would have gotten hurt.

 

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Hindsight is twenty/twenty and there’s not a single damn thing anyone could do about it.

**~*~*~Three Weeks Earlier~*~*~**

“Look, do you want this to work or not? We’ve got to do something different because it can’t just be a replica of the Yule Ball!” Hermione’s shrill tone echoed in the common area, making Draco wince.

 

“Merlin, Granger, could you at least spare my ears? I didn’t say a single word about wanting it to _be_ the Yule Ball, just that it would be much _easier_ if we based our design with that basic format. If you would just let me finish my sentences, maybe we could actually get things done and you would understand what I’m trying to say!” Draco retorted.

 

Hermione scribbled a few words out on her parchment and didn’t say a word, knowing her temper had gotten the best of her and impeded their work. She nodded mutely at Draco to continue and dipped her quill in the inkpot, ready.

 

“Thank you,” his voice softened. “Now, I think the main issue is that many of the girls want a masquerade ball, but if we do that, it fosters an enormous security problem what with masks easily concealing anyone who so chooses to wear one. I’m nixing that option right now simply because I really don’t want something bad to happen during a time that’s supposed to be fun and carefree for the other students. As far as attire goes, dress robes, suits, or tuxedoes for the men and dresses for the ladies should work easily enough, yes? Good, moving on then.”

 

As Draco rattled through items for the ball, Hermione’s quill meticulously plotted out the details for the charity ball into a neat and organized plan.

 

“What do you think about for a band?” Draco’s question surprised Hermione; she’d happily have just carried on writing without giving much of her opinion since he had obviously helped his mother plan many balls and galas in his previous life.

 

“Oh, um, I guess we could just book the Weird Sisters again. I mean, they were pretty good and I’m not really sure who else there is besides Celestina Warbeck for wizard music,” she stated.

 

“Perfect, have Professor McGonagall reserve them for us as soon as possible then. Since we’ve moved onto the music portion, do we want there to be formal dancing at any part of the night? If so, that will require dancing lessons for each house along with proper song selection and an announcement for that changeover in dancing,” Draco said smoothly, fiddling with a button on his Slytherin jumper.

 

Hermione cocked her head to the side, thinking. “I think that would be a nice way to open it, with the professors and perhaps some of the older students leading a dance. Then we could always pop another one in about halfway through the night and then close up with one last formal dance or simple slow song to wind the night down.”

~*~*~*~

The resounding silence pervading the halls of Hogwarts as Hermione and Draco patrolled Friday night should have alerted them. The absence of the usual teenage lovers in semi-hidden alcoves should have set off alarm bells in their heads. Peeves was nowhere to been seen nor heard. Their footsteps echoing off the brick walls and the swish of robes as they walked were the only sounds.

 

They didn’t catch any of these abnormalities due to their intense mind work on their Animagus forms. Over lunch they had both chosen to accept the creature suggested by Professor Tawley. Draco, still feeling as though he was to be tossed around by the waves forever, directionless, was focused on conjuring up precisely what his form would look like to take his mind off the despairing thought of his future. Happiness was too strong a word—content, maybe, was Hermione’s feeling with her Animagus form as she mentally constructed it from nose to tail.

 

Wands stowed carelessly in their pockets, eyes scanning without seeing, and ears hearing without analyzing allowed for the opportunity to ambush.

 

Theo materialised from behind a suit of armor ahead, clearly in distress. Draco snapped out of his reverie immediately and checked his mental shields quickly before nudging Hermione’s elbow to get her attention. She deftly snuck her hand into her robes and palmed her wand, ready at a moment’s notice for anything.

 

“Theo, you and I both know you shouldn’t be out after curfew,” Draco spoke cautiously, troubled by his friend’s behavior.

 

Theo waved a hand dismissively in response. “Yeah, I know, I know, school rules, blah, blah, blah. I was actually looking for you because I think Blaise is up to something. You know how his dad was before…” he trailed off with a glance towards Hermione, clearly not wanting her to know the secret. “Anyway, I saw a letter he got from his mum a couple days ago and it’s not good, Draco. I’m worried for him. I saw him last an hour before curfew headed to the Astronomy tower but figured it would be better if we both went and talked to him.”

 

Draco looked to Hermione, who gave him a small nod to go with his friend; she knew similar worries when a friend was troubled with things far beyond their control.

 

“Go talk to Blaise, I can handle myself for the last hour of rounds. See you in the common room,” Hermione confirmed for him.

 

He nodded and gave her a small grimace, then turned back to Theo. “Let’s go talk some sense into him, yeah?”

 

The two of them disappeared quickly around the next corner; Hermione continued straight down the corridor, her wand now ready at her side. _It’s only an hour; I’ve done six-hour long shifts on watch while freezing my arse off with Harry in the middle of a forest. I can do this._

~*~*~*~

Draco and Theo traversed the corridors hurriedly, increasing their speed as they reached the Astronomy tower entrance. Draco pounded up the stairs, anxious to calm his friend and stop him from causing harm to someone. He flung the door open to find Blaise’s wand pointed at his forehead and an unconscious first year Hufflepuff slumped by the edge of the tower. He would have stopped dead in his tracks, but a prod to the middle of his back from Theo’s wand meant he had to continue walking forward.

 

“Blaise, what the fuck is going on? You wankers are just chaffing, aren’t you? That’s not actually Louis Germaint, is it?” Draco’s confusion soon turned to fear.

 

He knew his friends had their dark sides but this was a new facet he was unfamiliar with and he didn’t care to learn more about it.

 

“You should know better than to turn your back on your former master’s power, Draco,” Blaise said coldly, never breaking eye contact with Draco. “Now, you’re going to understand why you’re nothing more than the shit under our shoes. Theo, it’s time.”

 

Theo came around Draco’s right and muttered “Ennervate” at Louis. The boy woke up with a cough and wide, frightened eyes. He tried to speak but a quick spell from Theo silenced him. Theo then turned back to Draco and coolly said, “Imperio.”

  
Draco’s mind immediately fought back against the spell, battling hard against Theo’s might. The split in his mind between fighting back and processing what was going on ultimately defeated Draco’s defenses. Feeling the breach, he attempted to retreat behind his inner mental barriers, but Theo’s reach was far and strong. A cool, lightweight feeling slowly weaved its way through his mind as the Imperius took hold. Draco felt his body relax and heartbeat slow; clearly he had misjudged the situation and everything was perfectly fine.

 

The last thing he saw was arm raising his wand directly at Louis’s chest.

~*~*~*~

Hermione made it back to the dormitory not less than five minutes after her patrol ended at midnight. “Crup,” she said to Merlin’s portrait. He swung open, a frown on his face.

 

She walked in to see Malfoy slumped on the couch, eyes glazed over and unfocused. “Draco, are you okay?”

 

His pupils only just flicked in her direction.

 

“Draco!” she snapped her fingers in front of his face, waved her hand, even got significantly close to his face, but his response was minimal. _Shit._ “Draco, I’m going to perform a ‘Finite Incantatem’ on you, okay?”

 

Expecting no reply, Hermione raised her wand. Her hand shook as she pointed it at his head. “Finite…Incantatem.”

 

Draco’s head dropped like a rock to his shoulder, his mouth slackened and eyes closed. Hermione kneeled in front of him on the rug and set her wand on the coffee table. She placed two fingers on his wrist to check his pulse and confirm she hadn’t just hurt him more. Clearly he had been under some sort of strong spell to be so impassive towards her while conscious. She momentarily considered performing Legilimency to try and see what had happened after he and Theo left, but almost immediately discarded that idea.

 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, her mind racing through all of the options available to her with the least amount of questioning and resistance. She levitated Draco and with measured wand movements guided him into his bedroom and onto his bed while opting for the easiest solution.

 

She cleared her throat and murmured, “Starry.”

 

With a wince at the loud sound, Starry appeared in the doorway. “What does Miss Hermione need?”

 

“Can you figure out what’s wrong with Draco, please? I’m not sure myself and I don’t want to take him to Madam Pomfrey and cause him trouble,” she replied, frowning.

 

Starry nodded and walked over to the bed, clambering up in order to fully examine Draco. Hermione watched, intrigued and concerned, as the little house elf clambered over his legs and perched on the pillow, her big eyes closed in concentration as she held her hands mere inches above his head.

 

Hermione leaned against the dresser long enough for all of her nails to be bitten down to their nail beds and her back to get sore. The initial adrenaline she’d felt when encountering him like that wore off at least fifty minutes ago and it was nearing one in the morning before Starry moved.

 

The house elf climbed down from the bed and began wringing her hands; her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Starry could not fix Master Draco, Miss Hermione. Starry thinks Master Draco’s mind has been hurt and I cannot go behind his walls, miss, no matter how hard Starry tries and tries. Starry is very sorry, Miss Hermione.”

 

She sighed. “Thank you, Starry, for trying to help. You can leave now if you wish.”

 

Starry bowed low and disapparated after gently patting Hermione on the arm.

Hermione sagged against the dresser, tears of frustration and worry threatening to fall and break her composure. She looked at Draco, who was immobile aside from the rise and fall of his chest. A whimper escaped her lips at the situation. Only twelve hours ago they had learned their Animagus forms. Six hours ago they had eaten dinner and met briefly with Luna and Dean for a check-in about War and Peace.

 

She took two long, ragged breaths, exhaling slowly each time to calm herself for the task now at hand. Draco wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, and she needed to know what had happened to him that made him this way. She went and kneeled on the floor next to the bed, breathing deeply and clearing her mind. Her wand rose until its tip was a breath away from his forehead.

 

“Legilimens!” Hermione followed her spell into Draco’s mind, weaving around his outer barriers and getting flashes of memories he hadn’t thought damaging or powerful enough to hide better. Scenes of a smaller and happier boy playing with Theo, Blaise, or various toys sprinted across her mind’s eye. This all fell to the wayside as Hermione felt her spell hit his inner walls and come to a stop. Tendrils sought out any weaknesses in the barrier, but none were found. It was an impenetrable wall that had been created to withstand barrages from the Dark Lord himself; how would Hermione break into it with such less strength than he had had?

 

Defeated, she withdrew from his mind. For now all she could do was make sure he was still breathing in the morning when she woke up. She dragged herself to her bedroom, changed into her pajamas and curled up with Crookshanks in her bed. Sleep didn’t come easy.

~*~*~*~

Hermione woke to the sound of raised voices in the common room. She slipped on her dressing gown and grabbed her wand before opening her door to see what the fuss was about. A quick glance towards Draco’s room showed the door was still firmly closed and no sound escaped from it, meaning he was probably still unconscious.

 

Standing in the common room talking in more hushed tones were the Headmistress, Professors Sprout and Dragoran, and a small, badly hurt Hufflepuff boy being tended to by Madam Pomfrey. Hermione stopped at the foot of the stairs, surprise and confusion on her face.

 

“What’s going on, Professor?” she directed to Professor McGonagall.

 

“We’d like to know as well. Mr. Germaint here has been severely injured by an attack and he says that Mr. Malfoy did it to him. He says no one else was on the Astronomy tower. We cannot allow this kind of action from anyone, student or staff, and especially not the Head Boy! I do not wish to trouble you any further, Miss Granger, so if you could rouse Mr. Malfoy and send him down here to submit himself for questioning, please,” the headmistress replied tersely.

 

Hermione shifted on her feet. “Well I would do that, but I haven’t been able to wake him since I got off patrol at midnight.”

 

She took a breath to continue but was interrupted by Professor Dragoran. “What do you mean you haven’t been able to wake him? Surely the boy can’t be that hard to wake up.”

 

“Well you see, during our patrol he had gone to talk with Theo about Blaise because Theo was concerned about Blaise, so I let him go and finished patrol by myself. When I got back I found him slumped on the sofa hardly conscious but with no visible traces of spellwork. Starry couldn’t even wake him, Professor. She tried for an hour but he’s retreated behind his inner mental walls where no one can reach him,” Hermione explained, biting her lip once she finished.

 

“Take us up there at once. Pomona, stay with Poppy and Mr. Germaint,” McGonagall instructed.

 

She led them up to Draco’s room and stood by the head of his bed while they examined him. Professor Dragoran ran several diagnostic spells Hermione didn’t recognize while Professor McGonagall checked his breathing and heart rate the muggle way, surprising Hermione. After several tense minutes, both professors exchanged looks of concern.

 

“Dean, can you perform Legilimency?” Professor McGonagall queried.

 

“Yes, although I fear this might be beyond my reach,” Professor Dragoran replied.

 

Hermione fidgeted as they quietly discussed the ethics of attempting to breach his mind while unconscious and student-teacher relations. She brushed back a tuft of his hair and seemed to pull strength from it.

 

“If I may interject, Professors?” she said timidly. Both professors turned towards her, eyes curious.

 

“I learned how to do Occlumency and Legilimency while on the run with Harry and Ron last year just in case we got taken. I can also tell you that Draco’s mind is much stronger than you think it is because he built barriers to keep out Voldemort, and they did repel him successfully every time,” she paused, not wanting to reveal her indiscretion, but giving in anyway. “I know this because I tried it earlier and there were absolutely no weaknesses in that inner wall. He made it impenetrable to one of the most powerful wizards of all time so we have no chance of getting through it and to him.”

 

Her voice caught at the end of her admission, but the professors merely looked grim.

 

Professor Dragoran spoke next. “It is remarkable the boy was able to hide so many things from Voldemort even when he was residing in Malfoy Manor with him. I was afraid you would say something along those lines, Miss Granger, as I was able to catch some lingering fragments of the spellwork on him. However, I cannot identify who cast them or what exactly they were, but I have a feeling it was strong enough to make him retreat within his mind,” he turned to Professor McGonagall. “Minerva, we have to do something here. One of their peers was tortured, and he has memory of the event with Mr. Malfoy front and center. Soon word will get out that the suspect is Mr. Malfoy here and we’ll have a riot of scared students on our hands. Until Mr. Malfoy wakes up and can explain these events, precautions need to be taken.”

 

Professor McGonagall was impassive as her mind raced over all of the possible outcomes of the situation at hand. Finally, she raised her head. “This leaves me no good choice. I’m afraid that Mr. Malfoy will have to be stripped of his Head Boy title, effective immediately. I’ll find a suitable replacement by Monday, but for now I would like you to do all of your patrols with Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, no objections,” she held a stern finger up as Hermione opened her mouth. “Mr. Malfoy will be taken to the infirmary and taken care of by Madam Pomfrey until he wakes up on his own or we determine the cause of his retreat and can awaken him. No visitors will be allowed unless absolutely necessary, and that includes you, Miss Granger. If you were to be seen visiting him, I fear the school just might fall apart completely.”

 

Hermione stood numb with disbelief as Professor McGonagall called Madam Pomfrey up to the room and, with assistance from Professor Dragoran, levitated Draco from the dormitory in a translucent bubble stretcher while Louis feebly tottered alongside. Starry was summoned and ordered to remove all of his possessions and store them elsewhere for the time being.

 

“Miss Granger!” Hermione started when she heard Professor McGonagall tersely say her name for the third time.

 

“Yes, Professor McGonagall?” she asked.

 

“This will shock the school, and I need you to be a strong support for the students right now. I know how diligently the two of you were working to improve relations between the houses and yourselves, but this is unprecedented. I’m afraid there is nothing else I can do here. I assure you that Mr. Malfoy will be taken care of and under twenty four-hour supervision while in the hospital wing. The school will also be put under stricter curfew, and I will speak with Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini. I will make the announcement at breakfast on Sunday morning,” Professor McGonagall reassured Hermione.

 

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied.

 

Professor McGonagall gave her a weak smile, then pulled Hermione into a quick hug. “My dear Hermione, I know this is not what you expected when you returned to Hogwarts, but we must get this situation under control and stop the perpetrators as quickly as possible. I believe in your ability to continue leading the students and I will keep you informed of any developments as they happen. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes and stepping away.

 

“Good. Now get some sleep, as I’m sure you desperately need it. I will send you a note in the morning with instructions for how to handle tomorrow with Starry. You know the password to my office so do not hesitate to come talk to me about whatever you may need,” Professor McGonagall said.

 

They left Draco’s room and walked to the portrait entrance. Just as Professor McGonagall was about to leave the portrait hole, Hermione spoke up.

 

“Professor? If it could be allowed, I would like to see Draco once he wakes up. I think that my presence might dissipate any tension he might feel towards you and Professor Dragoran so soon after waking and allow for a more insightful conversation.”

 

She pondered for a moment, before giving a nod. “Yes, I suppose that would be fine. I will have Madam Pomfrey notify you immediately once that happens. Goodnight, Miss Granger.”

 

“Thank you. Good night, Professor McGonagall,” Hermione responded.

 

As the portrait hole closed, Hermione looked at the guardian to see the young warlock with pain and sadness far greater than hers showing on his face.

 

“While this may be many years beyond my time, I still know the pain and uncertainty of these events. I fear that cutting the root now will not stop it from spreading. You must be quick to vanquish this evil or it may yet conquer this fragile world,” Merlin warned Hermione before vanishing from his portrait.

 

With that eerie warning in mind, Hermione made it to her room and changed into pajamas but did not get into her bed. Instead, she sat on her window seat and stared out into the night. Crookshanks jumped into her lap and she held him close as she thought through every way imaginable that Draco could come out of this with as little pain and scarring as possible.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams and Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE S/O to my amazing beta Grace for editing this in less than a day for me! She's the best and gets all of the cookies because of it. 
> 
> Enjoy this update!

**~*~*~*~Saturday Morning~*~*~*~**

Hermione awoke to find herself still sitting in her bedroom window seat with a painful crick in her neck, Crookshanks curled up in her lap. With careful consideration of his claws, she lifted Crookshanks onto the floor to go sleep in her bed instead. Not two minutes later she was fast asleep again, but terrible dreams plagued her.

~*~*~*~

_Tall, golden prairie grass swayed in the breeze all around Hermione. Sunlight shone across the vast field. A large tree rose out of the prairie not more than a quarter mile away from where she stood — it seemed to be drawing her closer, beckoning._

_As she approached, the magnitude of the tree became apparent – it was larger than any tree known to man; wizard or muggle, and bore pale blue leaves. Streams of light tan and brown weaved their way across the bark of the branches in a enchantingly beautiful pattern. Hermione circled the tree once before realizing a branch was low and flat enough for sitting. Seeing no reason otherwise, she clambered up and looked out at the field around her._  

_The tall grass prairie appeared never-ending, always in uniform motion like sea waves. What went unnoticed momentarily by Hermione, was the movement against the waves made by the breeze off to her left. Clouds began blocking out the sun intermittently, the temperature dropping, and the breeze morphed into a powerful wind._

_Hermione, clad in trousers and a jumper, began wondering what this dream was about. Ever since her magic began showing itself when she was a child, she had become aware of when she was dreaming. She didn’t really understand why, simply accepting this was the way her dreams worked now. She didn’t really wonder if other magical children dreamed like her either, wanting to feel special and not like the odd girl. Dark, large storm clouds began to roll in swiftly from behind Hermione, effectively sending the field into evening twilight._

_She lifted her gaze and noticed some dark fabric hanging, swaying in the wind from a wide branch several feet above her head. Curious, Hermione began climbing higher into the canopy to investigate. As she approached the fabric, she saw it wasn’t a stray piece, but rather part of a cloak— a cloak with someone still wearing it, unconscious. Hermione rose from her climbing position to get a better look at the person and recoiled. It was none other than Draco Malfoy, with a bloody gash across his face. The redness of the blood was striking against the platinum of his hair._

_Crouching over him, Hermione quickly assessed the wound, determining it had stopped bleeding a while ago. He was in no immediate danger, aside from the fact they were a good twenty feet in the air in a tree. Just as Hermione began questioning the purpose of Draco here and in this condition, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled._

_“Oh good, you’ve found the toy I misplaced earlier. It was rather fun playing with him until he could no longer keep himself awake. But that’s no matter, as you’ve shown up to play now,” spoke a male voice from higher in the tree._

_Hermione’s head whipped up, her eyes searching the dense foliage for a body to attach the voice to. The wind kept blowing her hair back in her face, making it difficult to see anything nearby, let alone a strange man in the higher branches._

_“What do you want?” Hermione stalled, finally pulling her hair back with a hair elastic._

_“It’s not what I want, dearie. It’s what you want. And I know what you want,” the voice came from just the other side of the massive trunk now._

_“And what is it that I want, exactly? Dreams don’t exactly work the same way for me as they do for your usual quarry, I presume,” she countered._

_He laughed. “Darling, that is exactly why I am here.”_

_Her blood ran cold. She cautiously edged towards the trunk, aiming to go around it from the right side._  

_“Please, stay right where you are. I’m afraid you’ll just make it more difficult for yourself later,” the man’s voice came from behind her._

_Hermione whirled back around to find a hooded man crouching on the branch on the far side of Draco. A gloved hand withdrew from Draco’s brow as the man stood. With slow deliberation, Hermione inched her hand towards her back pocket where she had stowed her wand while climbing the tree._

_The man lowered his hood, revealing dark, wavy hair. His complexion was brown, but a silver mask covered his eyes, so any familiarity Hermione might have seen in his whole face was lost. He seemed ageless, yet also older than any civilization._

_He nodded his head in acknowledgement. “You see, Miss Granger, your friend here has proved very curious to me indeed. His Occlumency is extremely powerful, much like his mother’s. In my attempts to penetrate his dreams— the time when the subconscious can be most vulnerable— his mental shields remained strong enough to keep me out. Now you, however, have not had the extensive training that the young Malfoy received. Which is why we are here.”_  

_“I still don’t understand. Are you a specialized Legilimens? Is that your sole purpose in life? To steal into people’s dreams and break their minds until they go mad?” Hermione asked, risen to anger._

_“Ah that is a bit of an oversimplification of my purpose here, dear. First and foremost, I do what I do in order to study the way witches and wizards maintain their shields while unconscious,” he smiled at Hermione, knowing this description would throw her off balance._

_She frowned at him. “Just by making it sound academic in nature does not make it in any way actually academic. You’re still entering people’s minds without their consent and that is not right! I want you out! Leave, evil mind-breaker!” She raised her wand and shot a silent stupefy at the masked man. To her amazement, the spell stopped midway to him and simply hovered in the air as a scarlet bolt of light. The man frowned at her in return._

_“Now_ this _is exactly why I came here to your dream tonight. You are actively fighting back against me, an intruder, both in your unconscious state and conscious state, though you will not register the latter. Dear Draco here, with his mind hidden behind his mental shields, provides a rather different playground for me. His unimportant or irrelevant memories and subconscious are at my disposal. Unfortunately, because of that, he gave himself that lovely gash on his forehead there,” the man turned Draco’s head over with his foot to expose the gash and clicked his tongue. “What a pity. I daresay you’ll enjoy puzzling this one out.”_

 _He stepped to the side and released Hermione’s spell, where it shot out into the open air and missed its intended target completely. The man checked his wrist, where a silver watch could barely be seen behind his gloved hand._  

 _Hermione’s fury was strong enough her hands were trembling with the effort to remain still. “I still don’t understand your purpose_ here _. In_ my _head. I have nothing you want.”_

 _“Oh, my dear Miss Granger, you have so much to learn,” he said coldly. “Your Occlumency skills, while admirable, are not the reason I am here. You seem to have, oh what’s the word I’m looking for— ah,_ misplaced _a memory. A rather significant memory to dear Draco here, which I want to locate.”_  

_The man raised his hood and stared directly into Hermione’s eyes, a cold fire battling her anger-fueled flames. “But go on, fight, if it makes you feel better. It’ll surely be a fun show. Sweet dreams, Miss Granger,” his voice echoed around her as he disappeared into a sudden mist._

_~*~*~_

**_Hermione’s P.O.V:_ **

Everything faded to black and I gasped awake, gulping in air as I tried to process. With shaking hands I retrieved my wand from the nightstand and removed the memory of the dream immediately. Starry appeared at my bedside with an earsplitting crack, sending me into another fit of shock that took several minutes of deep breathing to get under control.

“Starry apologizes, Miss Hermione. Starry was just checking in on Miss Hermione because she heard noises, Miss,” Starry bowed her head low.

“It’s alright Starry, you just startled me,” I replied after catching my breath. “I had a terrible nightmare, but I’m doing fine now. What time is it?” 

Starry raised her head and promptly said, “It is four-oh-three in the morning. Would Miss Hermione like a small sleeping draught to rest until eight?” 

I rolled my wand between my fingers a moment before deciding. “Yes, that would be tremendous, thank you, Starry. While you’re fetching that, could you possibly check on Draco for me please?”

She nodded once solemnly and disappeared. I exhaled slowly and leaned back onto my headboard. Crookshanks jumped onto the bed and curled up in my lap.

“Oh Crookshanks, what am I going to do?” I asked him, as if he knew what I could possibly do at this point.

Minutes later Starry reappeared with a vial full of purple liquid and a sad expression. “Mister Draco is still asleep and weary-looking, but Madam Pomfrey is tending him carefully,” she reported dutifully.

“Thank you, Starry,” I smiled gratefully at her. “I’ll call you should I need anything.”

“Yes, Miss Hermione,” Starry said, disapparating after a curtsy.

I removed the lid and drank the contents of the vial, staying conscious just long enough to set it aside on the nightstand.

I slept, and this time, I did not dream.

**~*~*~*Saturday Evening*~*~*~**

**_Harry’s POV:_ **

Ginny curled up on the sofa in the Room of Requirement next to me. Automatically, I wrapped an arm loosely around her waist and began massaging her hip. After a brief trip with us to  Hogsmeade, Ron and Mandy had left to go practice some spells for Defense Against the Dark Arts. We took the opportunity to have some alone time and talk with no chance of being overheard.

Ginny raised my palm to her lips and peppered it with kisses. “What are you thinking about, Harry? Don’t say that it’s nothing, because you’ve stopped rubbing my hip.”

I sighed and kissed her hair. “You, mostly. Us. What happens now. How Hermione is holding up with Malfoy being Head Boy. What McGonagall isn’t telling us about the staircase collapse.”

“Oh, Harry, you worry too much.” Ginny turned over to face me and squeezed me hard around the middle. “I’m sure Hermione has been holding her own with Malfoy. We’ve talked about it quite a bit during our bi-weekly chats. They seem to be on somewhat decent terms now. At the very least because she stopped grimacing whenever I brought anything involving him up, and doesn’t immediately try to direct the conversation away from him. I’m sure McGonagall has her reasons for not giving us all the details, but don’t look too hard for something that may not even be there.”

She nuzzled my neck and I tickled her sides in response, eliciting sweet, girlish giggles and a playful slap on the arm. “You always know how to put sense into me, Gin. Although, I did get a patronus message from McGonagall this afternoon while you were in the loo,” I said.

A crease appeared between Ginny’s brows. “What did it say?”

“It basically just said: ‘due to unforeseen circumstances your presence on evening patrols with Miss Granger is requested for the present term. You will also assist in planning the winter ball. Please see me if you have any questions.’ It was weird, and that’s part of the reason why I’m worried about ‘Mione,” I stated.

Ginny frowned. “That is suspicious. You don’t suppose something happened with Malfoy that needed covering up, do you? Merlin, we should go talk to her. I haven’t seen her since Wednesday thanks to all of those Quidditch practices we’ve been having.”

She gracefully rolled off the sofa and stood, holding a hand out to me. “Let’s go, Chosen One. We’ve got a friend to see.”

I took her hand and tried not to overthink McGonagall’s message more than I already had, as we made our way to the Head’s dormitory.

~*~*~*~

As we approached the portrait hole, the painting’s occupant disappeared at the edge of the frame for a moment. We waited until he came back and I opened my mouth to say the password, but he merely held up a hand and swung open. _Ah, he must have told Hermione we were coming,_ I thought. I gently pushed Ginny ahead of me through the entrance, following closely behind her.

Hermione was waiting for us, lounging on what I pinned as “her” chair with parchment and quill in hand.

“Hi, Ginny, Harry,” she greeted us, finishing her thought on the parchment before getting up for brief hugs. “How was Hogsmeade with Ron and Mandy?”

We sat down on the sofa adjacent to her chair. “It was fun! Ron convinced Madam Rosmerta to sneak some Firewhiskey into Harry’s butterbeer just to see how Harry would take it. Needless to say he was disappointed when Harry didn’t even flinch and nearly downed his whole drink in one go,” Ginny said, smiling at me knowingly. “Ron and Mandy left us at about four this afternoon to go practice some spells for Defence Against the Darks Arts class next week. I think he’s definitely doing better now that he’s got someone to talk to besides the three of us. How has your Saturday been? Relaxing, I hope.”

“As Saturdays go, not my best, but definitely not my worst. I haven’t been able to focus on a single piece of literature or classwork for more than ten minutes today,” Hermione confessed, pushing her hair back from her face and pulling it into a rough ponytail.

“Does it have anything to do with why McGonagall sent me a notice telling me I’m to be joining you on patrols for the foreseeable future, and helping you plan the ball?” I couldn’t hold it back any longer— I wanted to know what was going on. It’d been chewing at me for the past few hours.

Hermione flinched at my rough tone. She set her parchment and quill down on the coffee table with deliberation, but her hands shook anyway. “Um…yes, I suppose I can tell you that much. I have rounds Tuesday and Friday nights from ten until midnight. You’ll be joining me both of those nights, and I’m going to need both of you to help me with planning this ball. I can’t fully explain why, but McGonagall will let you know in due time,” she clarified.

I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled heavily. “’Mione, what’s going on with Malf- Draco?”

“I can’t tell you. And even if I could, I wouldn’t know what to tell you,” Hermione replied, eyes watering.  

Ginny and I exchanged a confused look.

“You know that doesn’t cut it with us, Hermione. We’re your best friends. Info, now!” Ginny intoned.

Hermione’s eyes flicked between the two of us. I recognized her expression and gently set my hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “Gin, I think we should let Hermione be alone for now,” I cut in, pulling Ginny off the sofa with me. “Let us know when you need us for ball-planning with a quick message to the galleons, okay ‘Mione? Come on, Gin, let’s go discuss tactics for the Quidditch match against Slytherin in two weeks.”

She relented, and stopped only to give Hermione a brief hug. “We’re here for you, ‘Mione. Don’t forget that and bottle everything up inside, it’ll only make it worse. Trust me, I know from experience,” Ginny chuckled before releasing her from the hug.

I got a quick smile from Hermione before Ginny and I turned to leave. Her behavior and the message from Professor McGonagall indicated they were hiding something, but we clearly were not meant to know yet. In any case, I would do my best to support Hermione in whatever was going on with her and Malfoy.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**_Draco’s POV:_ **

The extended retreat inside my mind was perhaps not the most prudent of tactics; however, in my defense, it was the best option I could detect for the moment. However, another issue arose; from doing so, I could not contact anyone outside of my inner walls, which proved problematic while Granger and the professors were attempting to diagnose me. I had only retreated this far once in my life, and it took my mother’s rather impressive Legilimency skills to break through and retrieve me. Not even my connection to Granger in her mind with the hidden memory could help us now.  

I only hoped Hermione could sort through this quickly to prevent another attack on a student by Blaise and Theo. With me incapacitated, any limitations I presented to them were no longer a hindrance; I feared the terror the two of them could spread within a matter of weeks in this school without leaving a single detail that could be traced back to them.

~*~*~*~Six in the evening, Saturday~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

As soon as Harry and Ginny left, I threw my book onto the coffee table. I inhaled deeply and let out a scream of frustration. The fact I could do absolutely nothing about the situation aside from keep it to myself irked me. I couldn’t help Malfoy, nor could I help Louis Germaint.

This was the first time I’d ever heard of someone being able to retreat so ultimately behind mental walls that they become unreachable. In all of the research I had done back in fifth year to help Harry with his Occlumency lessons, I’d found nothing about this type of Occlumency where a person’s entire consciousness could be blocked off. If Draco remained close with his mother, perhaps she could help.

I decided to send her an urgent owl with the minimal amount of information I could provide to try to help Draco return to his conscious self. Narcissa’s owl returned four hours later with a single line from the Malfoy matriarch.

_Miss Granger,_

_I shall be arriving shortly in the Headmistress’s office._

_Narcissa Malfoy_

With the note in my hand, I sprinted to Professor McGonagall’s office, nearly shouting the password at the poor gargoyle that guarded the stairs. The stairs had already appeared when I reached the gargoyle, so I clambered up them as quickly as I could. I didn’t bother knocking on the door to Professor McGonagall’s office and opened it to find her speaking quietly with Narcissa Malfoy. They turned at the sound of the door opening and broke off their conversation.

Professor McGonagall spoke first. “Miss Granger, thank you for coming so swiftly after receiving Mrs. Malfoy’s owl. I’ve been discussing the situation with her. Perhaps you’d like to fill her in with your information?”

Narcissa looked at me with a small smile. “I know it’s been a tumultuous few hours, but I need to have as much information as I can before I attempt to help Draco. Anything you may have seen or heard from him before his mental retreat will be helpful,” she intoned, clasping her hands together in front of her abdomen.

I nodded stiffly and began speaking.

“We were doing our nightly rounds when Theo Nott came running up in distress and asked Draco to go with him to check on Blaise Zabini, due to some bad news he’d received from his mother or something that was causing errant behavior. I allowed him to go and finished the rounds alone and got back to the dormitory just after midnight. Draco was sitting on the couch with glassy eyes and didn’t respond at all to anything I said or did. Then, I thought some sort of spell had been cast on him, so I performed a Finite Incantatem spell on him, which caused him to collapse and show no signs of consciousness,” I paused at Narcissa’s sharp intake of breath.

“Can you give me more detail on what happened after you cast the spell, please?” she asked.

“Um, yes. His head dropped onto his chest, sort of like when people fall asleep sitting up, his eyes rolled back into his head before closing, and his mouth slackened. His body just became dead weight. I checked his pulse, and it was a bit slow but not life-threateningly so. After that I levitated him up to his bed and called Starry, a-our house elf to come check him with her magic. She couldn’t find any physical injuries and could not determine what his mental state was like either,” I recited, just as I’d done previously for Professors McGonagall and Dragoran.

She took a moment to think about the information I provided her. “From what you have told me, Miss Granger, and what Minerva has told me as well, it appears I may be able to help my son,” Narcissa said solemnly. “If he has retreated in a similar manner as I know to have happened before, it should only require three days to return him to his full self. I will require your assistance, Miss Granger.”

I felt my heart jolt at her words. “What do you need me to do, Mrs. Malfoy?” I asked timidly.

“Firstly, I need you to call me Narcissa. I feel this conflict is not yet over, so if we are on familiar terms it will be easier,” she replied. “There is a certain ritual that must be performed to restore him to consciousness. It requires a blood relative and someone whom the afflicted shares a deep personal connection.”

I blushed scarlet at this, causing Narcissa to give a small smile. “I presume it does not necessarily have to be a romantic connection, Narcissa? What I’ve seen over the past seven years with these two is a very strong desire to beat the other in marks, but also now it has morphed into competing to better the school and provide a united front for the students,” Professor McGonagall jumped in, saving me some embarrassment at the hands of Narcissa.

Narcissa nodded in agreement. “Yes, and I believe with the addition of the War, and the, erm, event at Malfoy Manor, I do think there is a strong enough personal connection for this to work. Hermione, I will send you some reading as soon as I return to the Manor that will help guide you in this ritual. As I know you and Draco both teach a class, is there any way their time slots can be covered by other qualified students? Perhaps Mr. Potter or someone similar?” She directed her attention towards Professor McGonagall.

“If I may jump in, I know Harry & Ron’s schedule and both of them have free period during all of my teaching periods, so either of them can cover for mine. I believe Anthony Goldstein has third period open on Monday so he could cover for Draco then, or Mandy Brocklehurst could as well for when we are supposed to teach together,” I interjected before Professor McGonagall could get a word in.

Professor McGonagall replied, “Well as it seems Miss Granger knows her peers class schedules well, I will talk to each of them and have a verdict before lunchtime tomorrow. Miss Granger, I will need your lesson plans for the week and will also meet with Miss Lovegood and Mr. Thomas as well so they are aware of the situation. Narcissa, what would you like me to say to the students at breakfast tomorrow concerning your son? Word of the first year being attacked will spread quickly in the morning and I do not wish your reputation to be tarnished again so quickly without us knowing all of the facts.”

Narcissa raised her chin, looking extremely aristocratic and in her power in this moment to me. “All I wish to be known is that while a young student was attacked seemingly by my son, my son was also attacked by an unknown entity. Let them scream at it being ‘done’ by a Slytherin and a Death Eater, I do not care enough anymore to listen to those cries of ignorant hatred. Tell them not to pester Hermione about the situation because she had no control of it and they should not blame her for it either. If parents have any questions about my son’s involvement, then they can send me an owl, and that is all. Hermione, I will need you to be in the hospital wing as soon as you are released from breakfast so we can begin preparing the ritual.”

I nodded, holding back tears at Narcissa’s thoughtfulness and truly caring nature when it came to ensuring the blame would not be placed on my shoulders. She reached out and squeezed my hand once. “I will see you shortly, Hermione. Thank you for agreeing to assist me in getting my son back. And thank you for seeing us at such a late hour, Minerva. I will owl you before I arrive tomorrow morning. Could I floo into your office again? I wish to be seen by as few students as possible due to the nature of the situation. If Professor Dragoran could also join us in the morning, I believe he could provide us assistance as well,” Narcissa requested.

“I will do what I can to keep students away from the infirmary. Breakfast begins at nine o’clock so I suggest arriving thirty minutes prior to beat even the earliest risers. I shall send a note to Dean and appraise him of the new situation immediately. If you need anything else from me while you are here, please just call for Miss Granger’s house elf and she can deliver news to me,” Professor McGonagall responded.

With that, Narcissa turned and entered the fireplace with a handful of floo powder and left.

Professor McGonagall turned to me. “Miss Granger, I expect  there to be an uproar when I explain what is happening tomorrow morning, and I do not wish for you to get caught up in the mess. If you are comfortable, I would like you to join me at the podium so you are out of harm’s way. You can also leave through the back door behind the staff table and get to the infirmary without your fellow students trying to intercept you. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes that should be fine. I think I’ll place some protection charms on myself before breakfast, just to be safe. Old habits die hard,” I replied. “I also know you asked Harry to join me on patrols and with event planning, so is there any way I can tell him more about the situation? He’s like my brother and it was hard enough keeping it secret when we talked this evening about your request.”

“I suppose if you tell only him, and not Mr. Weasley, that should be fine. I suggest you also let him know you will be gone for the next several days as well as you attempt to resolve the situation too. Thank you, Miss Granger. Go get some sleep,” Professor McGonagall walked me to her office door.

“Thank you, Professor,” I said.

Trudging down the corridor, I sent Harry a patronus telling him to meet me at my dormitory alone to talk. This was not going to be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, guys! School kept me super busy this spring but I'm getting there on finishing this story. I've got roughly 27 chapters planned for this so I hope to finish this by October (5 years of writing this if you can believe it!) 
> 
> Leave a comment and a kudos if you liked it or even if you didn't!
> 
> ~Madi x


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> S/O to my beta Grace again for editing this chapter for me! Please let me know what you think of it in a comment <3

**~*~*~*~Saturday, 11 pm~*~*~*~**

**_Harry’s POV:_ **

I was in the common room with Ginny when I got Hermione’s patronus. Ginny begged to come with me but I refused and told her it was important that I go completely alone. Promising to make it up to her later, I put on my shoes and made my way to the Heads’ dormitory. I met Hermione at the portrait entrance and followed her in, remaining silent so she could start the conversation.

 

She walked into the kitchenette. “Tea, Harry? Two sugars still, right?”

 

“Erm, yes I don’t see why not,” I replied, sitting on the sofa. She put the kettle on and got out two mugs decorated in red and gold. I waited patiently in silence until she had the tea made and brought it out to the common area. “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

 

“Of course, Harry. I apologize for asking you to come here so late at night too,” Hermione said, holding her steaming mug with both hands and sitting on the sofa next to me.

 

I shrugged. “It’s never a problem when my best friend asks me to come talk. What is a problem is that I don’t know what’s going on with you, and it’s properly scaring me,” I said, concern etched into my face. Hermione had always come to me with any problem, large or small, when she didn’t know the proper way to resolve it or why it was happening. Her upfront refusal to explain anything to Ginny and I earlier really had me worried about what was going on with her and Malfoy.

 

Hermione’s mug began trembling. I set my tea down and moved closer to her on the sofa. “Hey, come here, ‘Mione,” I took her mug from her hands and set it down next to mine, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

 

She curled into me and started crying. I wrapped my other arm around her waist and patiently allowed her to express all of the emotions she’d been holding back for who knows how long. Eventually, her sobs quieted to sniffles, and I accioed a box of tissues for her.  Once the sniffles disappeared, I opened my arms so she could return to a more comfortable position next to me.

 

“Thanks, Harry,” Hermione squeezed my hand. “It’s been a rough few days for me. I haven’t had much sleep, and if I do, I have to take a sleeping draught or it’s full of nightmares. Whenever I’d try to discuss things for the ball with Draco, he’d go all aristocratic on me and not listen to a single thing I was saying. And now, I can’t even talk to the idiot.”

 

Confusion must’ve been evident on my face as Hermione haltingly explained what had happened in the past couple of days to cause her outburst. She talked for nearly an hour, starting with events in the beginning of the week through to last night. When she finished, I just sat there, attempting to absorb all of the information she’d thrown at me.  Hermione, being the hospitable person she is, got up and made another kettle of tea and brought out some biscuits while I pondered on what she had said.

 

After dutifully eating a couple of biscuits and also because I was hungry, I endeavored to condense Hermione’s monologue into a few sentences for my sake.

 

“So, aside from the usual bickering with Draco about the ball, the week was fine. Then Friday night rounds came, Theo was acting all weird, something happened with Draco, Louis, Theo, and Blaise while you finished rounds. You came back here to a non-responsive Draco and now he’s essentially in a self-induced mental coma. Someone attacked Louis and McGonagall is going to talk about it tomorrow at breakfast—which is not going to go well at all, by the way. Now you and his mother are going to try to bring him back and it’s going to take three whole days so you need Ron and me to cover for you and teach your class. Did I get everything?”

 

“I mean, you left out some things I would consider important but essentially, yes, you got everything,” Hermione confirmed.

 

I exhaled slowly. “Well this is just another day in the woods searching for Horcruxes, right? Hopefully with less Voldemort though.”

 

She smiled slightly at my words, which meant my light-hearted approach and acceptance of the situation had lifted her burden somewhat.

 

I wrapped her in a tight hug and said, “You know I’ll help you out in any way I can, ‘Mione. Just tell me what you need done and I’ll do it. I promise I won’t say a word to Ron, or to Ginny, no matter how much she tries to weasel it out of me.”

 

“I know, Harry. I trust you enough to have judgment on things…usually. As far as your hair goes, though,” Hermione changed topics, plucking at some errant strands of my hair and pulling back from the hug. “You really need a haircut. Just because the world was ending doesn’t mean you get to let your hair run wild. We don’t need or want a repeat of fourth year.”

 

“That hurts, Hermione, that really does!” I scoffed, feigning offense. “It’s not my—well, no, it actually is my fault for letting it get so long. I was going to blame it on Ginny but I figured you’d disagree with that.”

 

“You’d be correct again,” Hermione chuckled. “Are you sure you’re willing to teach for me? And having Ron teach with you for two classes as well? It’s a lot to handle and I don’t want you being just ‘The Boy Who Lived’ to the students versus a person trying to teach them about the war and your experiences.”

 

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “I mean, it’s not an ideal situation by any means, but I think it’ll be fun to teach again. I did kind of lead the DA for a whole year, remember?” I nudged her shoulder playfully.

 

She nudged my shoulder back. Tucking her legs up on the sofa, Hermione sipped her tea thoughtfully. I munched on another biscuit and drank some tea, content to sit in comfortable silence with her. Eventually, Hermione glanced at the clock and gasped.

“Blimey, Harry, it’s almost one o’clock! You shouldn’t have let me talk for so long! You need to go to bed!” Hermione scolded.

 

“You need sleep more than I do, ‘Mione, but it is pretty late. Could I just crash here instead of going all the way back to the dorm? Some of the blokes have been getting on my nerves lately, and it would be nice to have a break for a bit,” I replied.

 

A frown overcame Hermione’s scolding expression at my admission. “Well I suppose you can if you don’t mind the sofa. I can bring you some extra blankets and pillows from my bed, they are far too much for one person, honestly,” she said, an idea clearly just formed in her head. “Actually, why don’t we just share my bed? It’s large enough for the both of us to have a solid two feet between us. And then you don’t have to put up with the uncomfortable sofa.”

 

“Er, that works for me, I guess. I don’t think Ginny will mind if we share a bed, do you?” I asked.

 

Hermione smiled. “No, she knows we’re like brother and sister so she should be totally fine with it. She’ll understand at breakfast tomorrow anyway if she does get mad about it. If anything, she’ll make a huge joke out of it.”

 

I chuckled. “Well, you do know my girlfriend better than I do sometimes. Alright, let’s get some sleep before the masses come screaming bloody murder at you, okay?”

 

We gathered up the tea items and put our dishes in the sink for later. I dutifully followed Hermione up the short stairs to her room. She speedily tidied up her room with wordless magic, but I didn’t care, as Ron and Ginny were significantly worse with their cleaning habits.

 

“Which side do you normally sleep on?” I asked, momentarily confusing Hermione. “I don’t want to intrude on your habits as it is your bed,” I clarified.

 

“Oh, um, well I guess I sleep on the left side, closest to the door most often. Does that work for you?” Hermione queried.

 

“That works perfectly fine. Ginny actually sleeps on the left too—not that you need to know that at all or that Ron should definitely not know…please don’t tell Ron I think he’ll murder me yet if he finds out Gin and I have shared a bed even if he said he was fine with us dating,” I rambled nervously.

 

Hermione laughed and said, “Harry, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Now turn around and close your eyes so I can change into my pajamas.”

 

I dutifully did as told and while I waited, I attempted to transfigure my jeans into pajama bottoms but ended up with striped jeans instead. _Why is transfiguration so difficult for me but a piece of cake for Hermione?_ I thought.

 

“Okay, you can turn back around now Harry,” Hermione said. “Oh, here, let me fix your trousers for you.”

 

With a quick twirl of her wand, I had soft cotton pajama trousers instead of jeans and I didn’t even mind that she didn’t ask. She climbed into her side of the bed and placed her wand on the nightstand. I went to my side and got in as well, setting my wand and glasses on the nightstand next to my side of the bed. While this was slightly weird, I didn’t feel awkward; Hermione just feels like my sister.

 

“Nox,” Hermione mumbled, wrapping herself up in the blankets and almost disappearing underneath them. “Good night, Harry. Starry will wake us up at eight o’clock.”

“Okay. Good night, ‘Mione,” I responded, situating myself in the blankets. I fell asleep within minutes of closing my eyes.

 

**~*~*~*~Eight a.m. Sunday Morning~*~*~*~**

 

Harry awoke, startled by the loud crack of their live wake-up call in the form of Starry the house elf. He rolled over and found Hermione had splayed out in her sleep, encroaching on his side of the bed.

 

“Oh, Miss Hermione has a male guest. Starry apologizes, Miss Hermione, and Mister Guest,” Starry said.

 

Hermione opened her eyes slowly and replied, “Don’t worry Starry, it’s just Harry. Thank you for waking us up on time. Can I ask you to be in the common room in a half hour? I have some things I need to gather and need your assistance then.”

 

Starry bowed low in her bright tea dress and answered, “Yes Miss Hermione. Starry will return promptly.” She disapparated with another loud crack.

 

Hermione sighed. “Well, I suppose we should get up. Sorry for taking up so much space, I don’t usually move that much unless my dreams are really erratic. Are you just going to clean up in your dorm or would you like to do that here?”

 

“Erm, I’ll go back to mine and get fresh clothes. Thanks though, that was some of the best sleep I’ve gotten in a while without having to listen to Dean snore all night. Thanks again for letting me stay here,” Harry said, putting on his glasses and stretching as he stood.

“Okay, well I’ll walk you out and see you at breakfast, okay?” Hermione inquired as she crawled out of the bed and threw on a dressing gown.

 

Harry led the way downstairs and briefly squeezed Hermione’s arm before leaving. Once the portrait hole closed Hermione dashed back upstairs to the bathroom to shower and prepare for the upcoming three-day ritual.

 

After dressing in casual attire and performing a quick-dry spell on her hair, Hermione shoved several days worth of clothes and toiletries into her beaded bag, along with the two books Narcissa had sent over last night before Hermione was even finished speaking with Professor McGonagall. One was a thick tome with a foreign language on the cover, and several other languages on the pages within. The second book was much thinner, in English, and seemed rather unremarkable in nature. She walked around her room several times, musing about what she could possibly need for the next few days, and also running through various outcomes at breakfast in an hour. The last thing Hermione put into the beaded bag was her copy of _Hamlet_ , without thinking why she might need it. Steeling her nerves, she willed herself to be confident and strong for not only Draco’s sake, but also for Louis. She quickly placed protection spells on her person and her beaded bag, just to be safe.

 

Starry appeared not a minute later, a smile on her face. “Hello, Miss Hermione. What does Miss Hermione require of Starry?”

 

“I’m going to be in the hospital wing with Narcissa performing a ritual to bring Draco back to consciousness for the next few days. We may end up needing more things than what we come with, so I have offered your assistance if we do need more things and we cannot leave. Is that alright with you?” Hermione asked.

 

“Starry is always happy to help, Miss Hermione. Just call for Starry, and Starry shall be there to help,” Starry confirmed.

 

“Okay, great. I’m going to breakfast now but I would not expect a call until at least lunchtime or later,” Hermione said.

 

Starry nodded vigorously, her ears flapping wildly. “Of course Miss Hermione. Starry will return to help in the kitchens.”

 

The house elf disapparated, and Hermione steeled herself for the carnage that would be breakfast.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Hermione was one of the first to arrive for breakfast in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall was already there as well, speaking quietly with Professor Dragoran. She approached the professors timidly, not wanting to interrupt.

 

Professor McGonagall spotted her and paused the conversation with Professor Dragoran. “Miss Granger, do you have everything you need for working with Narcissa?” Professor McGonagall asked.

 

“I think I do, but if I need anything Starry is more than willing to fetch it for me. I explained the situation to her and she is prepared to help in any manner required,” Hermione answered.

 

“Good,” Professor McGonagall nodded once. “Dean will accompany you to the hospital wing, but his duties only allow him to be present when he does not have to teach. Good luck to the three of you.”

 

Hermione and Professor Dragoran nodded in thanks, and Hermione left to sit at the Gryffindor table as students began trickling in.

 

At approximately nine-thirty, a majority of the students were in the Great Hall, eating their fill of all the delicious breakfast foods the house elves cooked. Professor McGonagall rose from her seat at the high table and held up a hand for silence, and the hall quieted in seconds.

 

“Good morning, students. I know that Sundays are not usually riddled with announcements, but recent events beg the need for information,” she began, motioning Hermione to come and stand next to the high table. “Friday evening, a first year student was attacked. Now, we do not know how everything transpired, but it is believed that an older student attacked him. Both students have serious injuries that Madam Pomfrey is tending to.  It appears that neither student was within control of his own powers during this time, and therefore both remain in hospital under supervised care until we know more. The students in question are Louis Germaint and Draco Malfoy.”

 

The uproar was even worse than expected. Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, and Slytherins alike were shouting profanities not only at one another, but also at Professor McGonagall. Hermione was frightened, seeing the level of viciousness and violent behaviour appearing amongst the students so rapidly as she stood near the high table. Professor McGonagall cast an extremely powerful silencing charm that immediately cut off the students’ exclamations.

 

“I insist that you refrain from passing judgment, as we do not have the full story and are still investigating. A new Head Boy will be announced tomorrow morning at breakfast. You are not allowed to pester your Head Girl for information about the attack or you will be subjected to two months detention, as she sees fit. I must also enforce a strict and absolute no visitors policy to the hospital wing while both are tended to by Madam Pomfrey. If anyone has information about the attack, please come forward and speak to me as soon as possible,” Professor McGonagall allowed the chitters to continue for a moment before continuing.

 

“As a final consequence of this event, all first and second year students will be accompanied to class by a prefect for the foreseeable future. Students, you must understand this: while Voldemort has been defeated and dead for four months now, it does not mean his ideology is also dead and gone. In the words of the late Alastor Moody, constant vigilance is necessary until we can find the person threatening the safety and livelihood of Hogwarts. If you have questions you may write them in a note to my office. You are dismissed,” Professor McGonagall finished.

 

Hermione quickly rounded the table and began walking towards the back door, with Professor Dragoran joining her. They moved as swiftly and silently as possible to the hospital wing. Hermione really did not want to be caught in the crossfire of angry, confused students. With luck, they reached the wing without seeing anyone and entered, closing the doors behind them. Louis was sleeping in a bed at the furthest end of the wing from Draco’s bed, next to which Narcissa was already sitting in a chair.

 

She stood as we approached. “Hello Hermione, Dean. Shall we begin?” she queried.

 

“Yes, I’ve brought the books you sent me and some other things I thought might be helpful,” Hermione said, lifting her beaded bag as indication of their location.

 

“As Professor McGonagall was only able to appraise me of the new situation early this morning, if I could get some more details as to how this ritual is theoretically going to work, I think I could assist better,” Professor Dragoran said.

 

Narcissa inclined her head. “Very well. This is something that has happened before with Draco, when he was very young. It was much easier to retrieve him, as he was just a little boy then, not a young man. This ritual draws upon shared memories between a blood relative and a close friend or partner. In this case, Miss Granger will be the close friend, even if the choice seems odd to those who know their history,” Narcissa shared a small smile with Hermione at this before continuing. “Nevertheless, she volunteered and so your role, Dean, will be to assist me on occasion while I perform and maintain the spell on Draco and Hermione.”

 

Professor Dragoran mulled it over for a minute. “I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts from 8 am until 11 am, and then 2 pm to 3 pm every day. As long as my assistance is not needed during those hours, I shall be available to assist then,” he stated.

 

“If I do require assistance during your classes, Hermione has agreed to let her and Draco’s house elf assist me when needed. I appreciate your willingness to help us with this, as you hardly know Draco at all,” Narcissa said, expressing gratitude.

 

Shuffling his feet, Professor Dragoran responded. “Well he is one of my students, and as he is the Head Boy, I’m sure that he was chosen for a reason, even if many of his peers seem to think otherwise. Aside from that, I hold judgment on people until they’ve given me reason to see them one way or another. So far, Draco has been an exemplary student who chooses not to get involved with others’ taunts and ridicule, instead focusing on his studies and his role as Head Boy. It only makes sense to do anything in my abilities to get the studious young man I know back to his normal self.”

 

With that, Narcissa summoned two other chairs to Draco’s bedside and gestured for Hermione and Professor Dragoran to sit. Hermione pulled out the two books Narcissa had sent her the night before and set them at the foot of Draco’s bed. Professor Dragoran materialized a notepad and pen, surprising both Hermione and Narcissa.

 

“Even after all these years in the wizarding world, I’ve found it hard to let go of my pens and sensible notepads from the muggle world. My parents chose to experience both worlds, so my time as a child was rather odder, I suppose, than most half-blood children. It’s just so much quicker than parchment and quill,” he explained unabashedly.

 

“I agree, but I didn’t think it would be allowed when I first came here as an eleven year old, so I didn’t bring any. I guess I’m going to have to stock up when I go home for the holidays,” Hermione said, smiling at this little quirk that she understood very well.

 

Narcissa picked up the large tome Hermione had set on the bed and began flipping through, looking for a certain page. “Hermione, you need to read the entirety of that book on Draco’s foot. It discusses your role in the ritual and what you may need to bring up or think about while it is being performed. If you find anything confusing, you may ask either of us about it and we will do our best.” She turned to Professor Dragoran. “Dean, are you good with translations? I seem to have forgotten some of the words over the years for ancient Warlockian. It’s similar to ancient English, apart from any magical objects or creatures or properties having different names or descriptors than their non-magical counterparts,” Narcissa explained.

 

While Hermione began reading her assigned book, Narcissa and Dean poured over the ancient text to determine the exact details to perform the ritual correctly. Draco remained motionless, locked in an increasingly tense mind-state of flickering consciousness. The three conscious people continued reading for the next three hours, until Starry apparated into the hospital wing laden with snacks and drinks for them. A thirty-minute break for eating was allowed and then they all returned to their studying. Eventually, Hermione’s back began feeling stiff, so she decided to pace around the wing while reading. Madam Pomfrey passed her several times to check on Louis, who was sleeping peacefully with a high dose of dreamless sleep potion administered every four hours by the nurse.

 

About a quarter of the way into the book, Hermione paused and re-read several lines to confirm she’d read them right. “Um, Narcissa, Professor? What exactly does it mean by me having to undergo a ‘purification and sensitization ritual’ before the actual retrieval can be done?” she asked.

 

“It means that when we are ready to begin, you must first clear your mind of all conscious thought and allow yourself to rest in a dream-state. This is the purification part the book talks about. The sensitization part refers to the necessary bringing of all memories of the afflicted to the forefront of your mind, good and bad, as they will be used to connect to Draco. I believe there are instructions in the next section on how to perform all of this, and we are also available to help as well when the time comes. When this happened to Draco as a child, Blaise was able to do so, with significant help from me, without any lasting memory trouble or pain, so you should be fine,” Narcissa declared before returning to the tome with Professor Dragoran.

 

Hermione returned to her book, satisfied with Narcissa’s explanation and that it would not require physical actions. They remained holed up in the hospital wing until dinner, when both Hermione and Professor Dragoran left to eat in the Great Hall to keep up appearances. Narcissa chose to travel to Hogsmeade and eat there, casting a glamour charm to conceal her true appearance.

 

~*~*~*~

**_Hermione’s POV:_ **

I was about to enter the Great Hall when I heard Ron call my name.

 

“Hermione! Hey, wait up!” Ron shouted, barreling through a couple of first year Slytherins to catch up to me.

 

“Hi, Ron. What’s the rush for dinner?” I asked, allowing him to catch his breath.

 

“Well I just haven’t seen you in a while, so I figured we could catch up over dinner tonight. You just dashed out of here this morning with Professor Dragoran so I couldn’t talk to you then. Where have you been all day? Normally Harry, you, and me get lunch together, but it was just Harry and me today,” Ron said, sounding hurt.

 

We sat at the end of the Gryffindor table near Harry, Ginny, and Neville. Thankfully, Ron was more interested in piling food onto his plate rather than wait for my answer, so I chose not to answer him, instead greeting the other three. I could feel multiple pairs of eyes on me from around the hall, some angry, some just curious. Feeling uncomfortable, I asked Ginny if she needed to go to the loo. She agreed, and we left without eating any food.

 

“Thanks for leaving with me, Ginny. I just felt like I was going to be mobbed if I left alone. Let’s go to the kitchens and visit Winky, shall we?” I proffered.

 

“Yes, let’s! Then maybe I can get a cup of tea instead of bloody pumpkin juice,” Ginny agreed.

 

Once we made it to the kitchens, Dobby happily served us a meal and hot tea, showing us his newest socks and hats that he had added to his already staggering collection. While eating, I reaffirmed I could not tell Ginny the whole story about Draco and Louis due to not knowing all of the information either, much to her disappointment. I made sure not to let slip that Harry knew, aware of how quickly her temper could flash. After Ginny accepted my reasoning for not telling her, we chatted about simpler things like Hogsmeade trips, George and the joke shop, and classes. This brief respite from the ritual preparations and other students refreshed me immensely. Feeling more upbeat and energized than I had in over a week, I parted ways with Ginny outside the kitchens as she went off to find Harry and I returned to the hospital wing.

 

For the rest of the evening, Narcissa, Professor Dragoran, and I continued studying the books. I finished reading mine at about eleven thirty. Professor Dragoran looked up from his notepad when I closed my book and set it on Draco’s bed.

 

“Ah, you’re finished. Excellent. This gives you time to practice the purification step in your personal ritual before you sleep tonight. Madam Pomfrey has arranged for you to sleep in here privately rather than have you return to your dormitory, Hermione. However I shall be returning to my office as in the morning we will need several items I have stored there. Narcissa, here is a copy of my notes on the text; if you have questions or if I need to bring something other than the items we discussed, please send me a note. Good night, ladies,” Professor Dragoran said, standing and gathering his notepad and pen before leaving the hospital wing after a quick word with Madam Pomfrey.

 

Narcissa rose from her chair and set the tome on Draco’s nightstand. Gathering her robes about her, she spoke quietly, “Hermione, I truly do appreciate your willingness to do this. Not many of Draco’s friends would do the same now, after the war, so you doing this for him speaks to a better and truer bond between you than he has with his friends.”

 

I dropped my gaze and began fiddling with a loose thread on my jumper.

 

She continued, “While you may not realize it or understand it, Draco hated seeing his aunt torture you in our drawing room. After the trials were finished, Draco demanded it be destroyed and permanently locked, all because of what you endured in that room. Draco tells me many things about his life, but other than my own knowledge of you and what he has told me of your magical and classroom abilities, I do not know his actual opinion of you. I hope you can understand where his mother comes from when I say that I hope the two of you can build a friendship, as I fear he does not have many people with whom he socializes with that he can trust any longer. Well, now that I have said what I needed, I think I shall retire for the night. I will wake you at six to prepare you for the ritual. Good night, Hermione.”

 

The elder witch briefly touched my shoulder in a warm gesture before retreating behind the curtain of the bed Madam Pomfrey had designated as hers. Unsure if this was meant to be a subtle hint towards pursuing a romantic relationship with her son when he awoke, I chose to compartmentalize it for later.

 

I went to my bed and retrieved pajamas from my beaded bag and changed. Crawling into bed, I did my best to relax and clear my mind of all thoughts. Soon I began dozing, until I eventually fell asleep, not feeling the mental pressure of a locked away memory attempting to break free.

 

**~*~*~*~Monday Morning~*~*~*~**

Narcissa gently woke me up promptly at six a.m., leaving me to dress and prepare for the impending ritual. Figuring comfort would be better for the work we’d be doing today, I shakily put on a worn pair of jeans and a warm fuzzy jumper, stuffing my pajamas back into the beaded bag. I performed a few calming breathing exercises to lessen my nerves before joining Narcissa. At six-thirty, Starry apparated in with a tray of assorted breakfast foods for Narcissa and I, of which we both ate heartily. Professor Dragoran joined us at seven, with several books and other odds and ends gathered in his arms and pockets.

 

“Whenever you are ready, you may begin the purification portion of your ritual, Hermione. If you could please sit in the chair closest to Draco, that would be best,” Narcissa encouraged. She had Professor Dragoran set his books on the floor near the foot of Draco’s bed and began setting the other items in various places around it.

 

I edged my chair closer to Draco’s bed and closed my eyes. Muscle by muscle, I relaxed my body until I could focus on simply clearing my mind with no distractions from my body. Narcissa began quietly speaking in a foreign tongue and a chill ran down my spine. After approximately an hour had passed, I felt myself slipping into a sort of daze of consciousness where my mind was awake but my body was sleeping. This was the dream-state Narcissa had referred to yesterday afternoon; assuming I could continue on with my ritual, I began to bring up my memories of Draco, one-by-one, starting with the oldest.

 

Professor Dragoran then lit several candles and poured a violet liquid into a small golden bowl. Narcissa removed a pendant necklace and dropped it into the bowl, along with Draco’s ring. The professor said some words over it until a blue light flashed across the surface.

 

The two adults did some other things, but I had finally reached the time of the War in my memories. I must have convulsed or done something to warn the others as they watched me carefully, scrutinizing every muscle twitch. Narcissa began casting a long and difficult spell while Professor Dragoran read something and also began performing what seemed to quite complex magic. It took me longer to sort through all of my memories of the war, as some did not directly contain Draco, but rather mentions of him, or the Manor, or his affiliates. When I reached our capture by the Snatchers, I had to take a deep mental breath before shuffling those memories forward.

 

After that came the Battle of Hogwarts. At this point, I felt a physical block inside my mind as I attempted to bring the memories forward in chronological order. I couldn’t move beyond the collapsed staircase after destroying Hufflepuff’s cup in the Chamber of Secrets with Ron. Gathering my strength, I willed the blockage to be dismantled so I could see this memory and move forward, no matter the horrors it might contain.

 

Narcissa’s chanting increased in speed and volume, and Professor Dragoran began furiously mixing multiple liquids and powders together into another bowl. Brick by mental brick, I began tearing down the wall blocking this memory. As soon as a sizable breach was made, I collapsed in my chair as the memory flew into the forefront of my mind. Professor Dragoran rubbed some of his paste on my forehead and Draco’s forehead as soon as I collapsed; Narcissa performed a large flourish with her wand and completed her spell. As the memory charged to the front, I succumbed to unconsciousness.


End file.
